Rolph David
The Girl Who Sold The Stars
Based on the fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen: The Match GirlBeneath the aching winter’s shroud,
A child walked mute through the bustling crowd.
Her feet, bare whispers on the frozen stone,
Her ribs a harp of hunger’s tone.
She carried a box, her treasure, her thread
Of tiny star-sticks, sulfur-fed.
She called to the rich, the hurried, the gray,
“Buy one, kind sir, and light your way.”
But no one paused, no coin was tossed,
Her pleas sank low in the windswept frost.
The air bit sharp, the streets stretched wide,
And hope fell silent, cast aside.
She found a nook where the wind died down,
Between the butcher’s shop and baker’s frown.
Her breath a ghost, her hands a blur,
As she struck her first small messenger.
The spark flared bright, then spread, then grew,
A hearth appeared, with flames that blew.
It roared and cracked, its warmth so sweet,
She reached to thaw her aching feet.
But the fire was a phantom, a fleeting reprieve,
And the chill returned like a thief to thieve.
She struck again—another flare—
And there she saw a table fair.
Plates heaped high with feasts untold,
A roasted bird, its skin of gold.
Steam curled up, and laughter rang,
The hunger struck, a piercing pang.
But the feast dissolved; the dark returned,
As sulfur to ash and silence burned.
She struck a third with trembling hands,
And saw a tree in celestial strands.
Its branches glimmered with jeweled delight,
Its candles banished the icy night.
She reached for an orb, her fingers shook,
And it shattered into a starry brook.
The heavens swallowed the vision whole,
Her body shivered, but not her soul.
She struck the rest, her matchbox bare,
And there her mother, beyond despair.
Her arms stretched wide, her voice like song,
“We’ll leave this place; it won’t be long.”
She climbed into her mother’s light,
And vanished into the tender night.
Morning came with its steely breath,
And found the girl, held fast by death.
Her empty box lay by her side,
Its burned-out stars, her only guide.
But high above, where cold won’t reach,
She walks in light, beyond our speech.
No longer hungry, no longer small,
A girl who sells the stars to all.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Rolph David.
Published on e-Stories.org on 12/25/2024.
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