TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORFE 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 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 mantle, just boots filled with sand,
And on the wall pictures of far distant lands.
With metals and badges, awards of all kinds.
A sobering thought came to mind.
For this house was different, so dark, and so dreary,
The home of a soldier, no I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, so silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
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 lived to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of these 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;
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my Country, and my Corps."
The soldier rolled over and soon 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 evening’s chill.
I didn’t 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.”