‘Twas the night before Xmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stealing
Apart from a MOUSE
A big dirty matchbox slung over his back
Snuck across the landing for a kitchen attack
Hauling down sugar plums
And matches off the table
Hoping that these winter stores
Will save a young girl’s fable.
Down the drain pipe, Into the night
Wishing that the last match’s flicker is still burning bright.
Passing 100 alleyways, but which one is right?
Wonders the mouse as he searches for her sight
Now, not far away, on Willoughby Road
Lies a weak little girl
With lips the colour of woad.
Lost and alone in the snow coloured leaves
If the match burns out, for her there will be no Xmas eve.
And in her hand, the light starts to fade,
But wait, is that a squeak she hears?
Or is it story made?
Hope starts to shine in a match so spindly and thin
Her heart is beating drums
Over the shoppers’ din
Could this mouse be a flame,
The dwindling match’s twin?
With a sugar plum in one paw
The mouse stood on the girl’s knee:
“Tonight you’re not alone
For I am here, in the wind and snow
For two matches will glow warmer
And burn away words,
Changing your story
Little Girl
I will help you light a match of Belief,
You still have a chance for Christmas Eve!