Rags to Ritzes... (IP) this week...

Rags to Ritzes

"I'd so love to be rich," the little match girl said,
her hair tied back, her face wrinkled and red.
"Why?" asked the reporter, all cracked up and snooty,
"Where is the value in that?"
.
The little match girl cried, soft angel tears, and picked
up her wood sticks, all tied up with wool, snow flicked.
"You see ma'dear," the reporter inpuned, "You're poor!
Some are, some are not. Born to work, a raw law."
.
"I wish it were not so," she replied, wiping her eyes,
"I wish I had money and the ability to tell lies,
I'd be as the gentry, all dressed up to pop!"
The reporter looked flashy, enraged and crabby, "The top,"
.
She remarked, "Is not for the likes of you, its for them!"
"Them?" asked the girl, tossing her hair, and stood up proudly.
"I could wear the fine clothes and speak like a toff, ever so loudly!"
"It's not all that!" said the reporter, giving a look, "It stems..."
.
"From money," said the poor girl, with a rose pink sugar smile.
She whipped off her patched coat, and revealed her stole,
"I'm off to the Ritz," and whistled a whole taxi shoal,
"You can take over, its's a great pitch, and a good pile..."