Seven Matches – Gord Downie

She gave me matches
Seven wooden matches
She put them into a small, slim glass jar
With a screw-top lid

I fingered that jar
I put it in my pocket
She said, ‘Can’t go into the woods without them’
I smiled at her and left

And I kept them dry
And as long as there were six
I’d be fine
As long as there were five
Matches in that jar
Mile after mile
On the chick-chick chick-chick sound of the matches
On the memory of her smile

I kept them dry
And as long as there were five
I’d be fine
As long as there were four
Matches in a jar
With a screw-top lid
I know she did not mean to hurt my feelings
But that’s what she did

And I kept them dry
And as long as there were three
I’d be fine
As long as there were two
Matches in that jar