MATHILDA

I remember when I was little, I asked You for a doll,

Told You which one I liked in the showcase mall.

A blue-eyed- black-hair witch wearing pretty pink attire,

But daddy couldn't afford her because he had retired.

I stared at her every day as I passed her by,

Whispered I would have her soon, as my daddy promised to buy.

She smiled, winked and said to me, "Hurry, dear child, for I

Am about to be bought by another family, and it makes me cry."

That night I wept; "Dear God," I said, "don't let her go; she is mine.

I promise to be a good little girl and love you all the time."

Daddy woke me with a smile and showed me three large notes.

I hopped and skipped all the way to the shops, wearing my bright pink coat.

"I'll call her Matilda," I told my daddy; "she'll sleep on my thin quilt,

I'll ask mummy to make her dresses, and you daddy a house to build." 

Mathilda will be with me day and night and accompany me to school;

She will protect me from my Miss Sherly and her cruel rule.

Mathilda will be my guiding star leading me on life's path,

Showing me how to love and nurture a generous heart.

"Mathilda, here I come," I said as I ran inside,

Looking high and low for her, "Matilda?" I cried.

The shopman knew my face as many a time he would see

Mathilda and I in dialogue about how our future would be.

I asked him in tears about the pretty blue-eyed witch

In magnificent pink attire, my Mathilda was snitched.

Daddy tried to console me; "there are many Mathildas," he said,

"Shall I get you that ballerina, the blond, black or red?"

I shook my head and cried, my heart torn and wounded,

How I wished Matilda was there, a little prayer I included.

That night at my bedside, I knelt and cried to God,

"Wherever Mathilda may be, bring her to me, O Lord."

I thought I heard someone call and looked out of my window,

Mathilda stood in the arms of my neighbour, her voice seeming mellow.

She waved, and I waved. She smiled, and I cried.

But not for a moment did we descend in our pride.

"You go your way, and I'll go mine,

You have your life, and I'm doing fine."

 I sat and watched her disappear into the night

Asking myself how she could forget the little girl's fight.

But my Mathilda is stronger, willing to let go

And embrace what she can have, with no resentments in store.