The Girl Who Had Nothing
by Grace Chiodo '18

An aroma of evergreen,
A rhythm of Christmas classics,
A plate of cookies and milk:
The "perfect" holiday home.

In this house, a child awakes on Christmas Day
With presents overflowing the family tree,
But as for the true meaning of the holiday,
Never truly satisfied would he be.

Across the town, a little girl arose
With battered hair and torn up clothes.
Her one-room home merely a hidden shack in the woods
was heated by a fire where the young girl stood.

She held in her hands a single present,
wrapped in newspaper and taped with sap:
a worn down book costing no more than a cent.
It was the only present in the house to unwrap.

Two blocks down, sits a man by the street.
He begs each day for simply something to eat.
Even Christmas Day he spends alone,
shivering without anything to call his own.

Today he watches the young girl come by,
carrying her gift as grateful as could be.
She recognizes a familiar pain within his eyes
and walks timidly closer and closer to see.

Shivering and weak she reaches out,
and places her book by his side without a doubt.
Her delicate smile remains unbroken;
Not a single word was ever spoken.

Her eyes twinkle as she walks away,
filled with the true joy of Christmas Day,
a joy the rich boy across town is still longing for.
But with ignorance, he keeps asking for more and more.

Everyday the withered little girl walks with a smile
past the old man turning pages of his only possession.
She knows her selfless deed is far worthwhile:

For Christmas is now an everyday blessing,
as for the boy, it remains an overlooked lesson.