A Christmas Poem

[Hot Foot]

Thought this would be appropriate for this time of year!

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 the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
And on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges and awards of all kinds;
A sobering thought came to 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 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, 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."

This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan.