A Soldiers Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas.

He lived all alone,

In a one bedroom house

made ofPlaster and Stone.

I had come down the Chimney,

With presents to give.

And 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 filled with sand.

On the wall hung pictures

Of far distant lands.

With medals and badges,

Awards of all kinds,

A sober thought

Came through my mind.

For this house was different,

It was dark and dreary,

I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping,

Silent, alone,

Curled up on the floor

In this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle,

The room in such disorder,

Not how I pictured
Was this the hero

Of whom I'd 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 were willing to fight.

Soon round the world,

The children would play,

And grownup's would celebrate

A bright Christmas Day.

They all enjoyed freedom

each month of the year,

Because of the soldiers,

Like the one lying here.

I couldn't 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 don't cry,

This life is my choice."

The solider rolled over

And drifted to sleep,

I couldn't 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 didn't want to leave

On that cold, dark, night,

This guardian of Honor

So willing to fight.

The solider rolled over,

With a voice soft and pure,

Whispered, "Carry on Santa,

It's Christmas Day, All is secure."

One look at my watch,

And I knew he was right.