The little Match Girl.

The little Match Girl.

This post is my interpretation of one of my favourite Christmas  stories “The little match girl it was  written by Hans Christian Anderson. I have always loved the story and so I have put it in to my favourite medium, verse. First  posted Dec 2011


It had been so very cold for days,

All the children were out playing on their slays.

Happy children healthy children in the snow at play

When they saw the bare foot child watching they simply looked away.

She had been out since 6am,

In her  woollen shawl  over her dress with the ragged hem.

Her mother had lent her, her clogs

but they were to big and had been  stolen by some dogs.

She had an apron full of matches and some bundles in her hand

She had to sell them all but today there had been no demand.

Try as she may she had not sold a single box all day.

Looking wistfully at the other children, she so longed to play.

The weather had been bitter when she left that morning

Struggling through the day she was even colder now as the temperatures were falling.

The sun had been gone for a while now and as the clouds revealed the moon

She said a silent prayer for someone  to come and buy her matches soon.

As she crossed the road she spied a street lamp down the ally

On the corner the yellow light look inviting she hoped that it might warm her.

Pressing herself against into a corner wall in hopes of getting heat

She was so cold from the top of her head right down to her tiny feet.

In despair she lit a match she watch the flame begin to catch.

Feeling the short lived heat just made her,want to  her action repeat.

No longer fearing her father’s anger she lit match after match

And as she did her wishes and hopes a glimpse she’d catch.

The first one showed her a happy home

With mother and father and children, no one alone.

All happily at a brimming table

With food to eat as much as they were able.

Reaching out to take some food

The flame went out and she was back in the ally crude.

Without a second to waste she lit another match in haste .

This time she was in a warm living room with Christmas tree and presents.

Then Just like before the match died, she  cried.

Taking out another match

She desperately wanted another scene to catch .

The magic of the match did her delight

A sun kissed sky where  she watched  a soaring  a kite.

OH! no she only had one match left

What was  she to do.

There was really nothing for it though

She did fear the anger of her father.

Trying to rise, her feet she could not feel nor her legs,

She could move no further.

She was so cold and tired and now the last match had expired.

So cold was she that she fell into a deep, deep sleep,

A sleep that put her into the good  Lord God’s keep.

In the last dreams of her little and unhappy life

She saw her Nan and her heart took flight.

For Nan had been dead these last two years

But in her dying heart she felt no fear.

For she was now safe that Nan was here.

Nan took here up into her arms

Her loving voice worked as a balm

To sooth her pain and make her warm

And lets rejoice for she is now out of harm!

Safe in Nana’s arms.


8 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. ellenbest24
    Dec 15, 2016 @ 23:07:16

    A swift edit pass to catch the pesky nits and this will be perfect. Lovely a poeticised seasonal tale. You did Hans proud😇


    • willowdot21
      Dec 16, 2016 @ 08:16:51

      Hi Ellen thanks for the tip, I did this post late last night and as you say it needed an edit.. I think it is better now. Thanks for your help and I am glad you liked it! 😊 xxx


  2. Accidental Spacegirl
    Dec 15, 2016 @ 23:49:28

    This film makes me well up every time, it’s so sad and beautiful. It especially touches my heart now, as two years ago I almost died in intensive care, and it was my Nan who met me and guided me back because it wasn’t my time.


  3. Let's CUT the Crap!
    Dec 15, 2016 @ 23:58:34

    Awwwe. I’m stuck for words. ❤ ❤ ❤


  4. jan
    Dec 16, 2016 @ 04:34:27

    Such a sad story – it’s not the cheery stories that stick with us at Christmas – it’s the real ones.


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