The Matches She Held

A lost and abandoned girl
Walking around the cold street
All alone as the snow swirls
With nothing in hand to eat.

With a bundle of matches
And the day becoming dark
Her hair and snow it catches
Warming up with just one spark.

No one will buy what she sells
Life departing and fleeting
Death is a very strong spell
Her heart now slows its beating.

With one last match in the bag
She prays to meet the heavens
Her apron causes a snag
Then a confused expression.

A match covered in stained dirt
The touch gives her a surprise
She wipes it off on her shirt
Her eyes then widen in size.

A bright diamond there appears
With a width that is so small
With this her fatigue is clear
She starts to run and then calls.

She finds the man she wanted
She hands the man the diamond
He looks and then is stunted
He sees the young girl crying.

So rare and valuable
So she drops her used matches
She fills her bag and now able
Bring home a batch now fabled


This poem is about: 
Our world


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