A poem to our soldiers //*
Twas the night before Christmas, and he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come in the chimney with presents to give,
to see who in this house did live.
I looked all about...a strange site I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the 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.
The face was so gentle, the room in such 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 lives 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 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;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my corps.
The soldier 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 night'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, it's 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."
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come in the chimney with presents to give,
to see who in this house did live.
I looked all about...a strange site I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the 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.
The face was so gentle, the room in such 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 lives 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 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;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my corps.
The soldier 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 night'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, it's 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."