Dreaming of bright packages underneath a tree
Snowy white cartoon characters dancing for me
The spirit of Christmas so present so free
Decorating our fragrant evergreen as a family,

A poem by Charles Dickens that became surreal
The Night Before Christmas I could taste and feel
It wasn't about the presents, the candy, or the meal
It was the fantasy of wonder and magic so real,

When the hearts of men soften for a short time
When people become enchanted over a holiday rhyme
When forgiveness and care happen at the drop of a dime
When families put aside differences and become sublime,

The little peasant girl walked down an icy street to dream
At the store window she stopped to stare with gleam
With only a box of matches to gaze through the glass
Her ragged clothing hardly enough while the wind harassed,

With each lighted match her dreams emerged briefly
Of warmth and family her pleasure surged so uniquely
Of love and joy she could finally feel completely
The last match glowed she put it back in the box so neatly,

The cold returned again she noted ever so meekly
Her joy subsided as she reflected on her future so bleakly,
Where was her guardian angel was she out to sea?
The little maiden shivered and began to falter so gently,

The snow drifted down in silence upon the cold street
A policemen on patrol found a bundle at his feet
He held the little girl's body now white as a sheet
He prayed she was with our savior where she'd taken a seat,

Strangely, I awoke from my mesmerizing daze
My eyes clearing slowly from the chilling haze
If only I could have saved that little girl at that cold site
Only a miracle the messiah could perform on Christmas night.