It’s a cold and dark night,

The last day of the year to be exact,

But to the little girl, walking barefoot down the street,

It doesn’t seem to matter.

She’s about eleven years old,

And she looks weak and poor, wearing only rags for clothes,

Yet, she’s used to it.

 

The lifestyle-I mean- she’s used to the lifestyle.

The lifestyle of selling matches for chump change,

That’s probably enough to buy bread for dinner for the night.

For this, she’s known as “The Little Match Girl”,

The little girl, who always walking down the streets of Copenhagen,

Selling matches to people to no avail.

The people always tell her no or give her cold stares,

Still, she never wavers, always trying again, always asking again to no avail.

 

You can’t help but feel sorry for her.

A child, all alone, walking barefoot in the cold with only rags to keep her warm

Just so she can sell matches to survive.

Where has the world gone to?

How can the world let this child suffer like this?

There are so many questions, still no answers.

All I know is that I can’t let this poor child, continue like this.

It’s too cold outside, she can die if she goes on like this.

 

It’s the last day of the year,

She’s out in the streets, selling matches again, trying her best to make some money.

And that’s when I came up to her and said

“Little girl, why do you continue to sell matches out here in the cold?”

She faces me and frowns. “This is all I have left.”

Right then and there, I pull her to into a hug. “That’s not true, you have me, now.

There’s no more need to keep selling matches.”  

The little girl hugs me back and says “Thank you.”

Her voice is light and soft as she says this,

but it sounds like music to me

as I hold her hand and guide her to her new home,

where I can protect her from suffering any longer.

 

It’s the last day of the year,

And this is the day that “The Little Match Girl”

Became my daughter.