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A Soldier's Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas,
he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made
of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney
with presents to give,
And had to see just who in this
home did live.
I looked all about, a strange
sight I did see,
No tinsel, No presents, Not
even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just
boots full of sand.
On the wall hung pictures, of
a distant land.
With Medals and Badges, Awards
of all kinds,
A sober thought, came to mind.
For this house was different,
it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a Marine,
Once I could see clearly.
The Soldier lay sleeping, silent,
alone,
Curled up on the floor, In his
one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, The
room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured, A United
States Soldier.
Was this the hero of whom Id
just read?
Curled up on a poncho, The floor
for a bed?
I realized the families that
I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers,
Who where willing to fight.
Soon around the world, children
would play,
And grownups would celebrate,
a bright Christmas day.
They enjoyed Freedom, each month
of the year,
Because of these soldiers, like
the one lying here.
I couldnt help wonder, how many
lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, In
a land Far from home.
The very thought, brought a
tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and started
to cry.
The soldier awakened, and I heard
a rough voice,
"Santa dont cry, this life is
my choice;
I fight for Freedom, I dont
ask for more,
My life is my God, My Country,
My Corps."
The soldier rolled over, and
soon drifted to sleep.
I couldnt control it, I continued
to weep.
I kept watch for hours, So silent
and still
And we both shivered from the
cold nights chill.
I didnt want to leave on that
cold, dark night,
This Guardian of Honor, so willing
to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa.
Its Christmas Day, All is Secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew
he was right.
Merry Christmas my friend, And
to all a good night.'
by a "Marine"...
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