The style I have employed here is simpler than I ordinarily use. I am surprised I could write a story in less than a thousand words, which I have been trying to do for some time. I could have added more detail to make the characters more interesting and personal, but I think for this use, shorter is better.
This story is about a young girl named Sapphie Smith.
Her parents were poor, so they lived in a small house,
And Sapphie had only three toys,
An hour-glass, a spindle, and a doll.
The hour-glass had been her father's,
The spindle her mother's,
And when she was younger, Mother had made her the doll.
Sapphie had known no other life,
Therefore she was content with her toys and her small little bedroom.
She slept with the little rag doll every night,
Playing with it so much that it was frayed.
When she was about six years old,
An epidemic swept through the land.
Her parents wished they did not have to go to the village and work,
But they were so poor, they had no other choice.
Then, one day, Sapphie's parents did not come back;
Her father found good pay as a shepherd in the distant hills,
Where he would not see his family for a long time,
And her mother knew one day in the village
That she had the dreadful sickness.
She did not go home because she loved her little daughter so much
That she did not wish to risk her getting sick.
But it tore her heart to pieces,
knowing that she would never again see her beautiful daughter.
Sapphie wondered why her parents did not come home
As they did every evening.
It did not bother her much as she played with her toys;
The hour-glass, the doll, and the spindle,
Crawling into her little bed when she grew sleepy.
The next day, Sapphie was getting lonely without her mother,
So she went to look for her in the wooded hills around her house.
She soon grew weary, not having thought to eat breakfast,
And laid down to rest by a stream where she drank.
A kind woodsman found her and raised her like his own daughter,
But as the months passed,
Her father came home, and found it empty,
Save the doll, the hour-glass, and the spindle.
He set them on the little table with three chairs,
Crying when he woke up and saw them every morning.
Sapphie found her father years later,
Which was the happiest day of her life.
Whenever she was sad, she looked on the mantle where the toys were
And remembered how wonderful it was to have her father again.
# See About Poem #