Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimmney 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,on the wall hung pictures of far and 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 such disorder,
not how I pictured a United States Soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
curled up in a poncho, the floor for a bed
I realized the families that I saw that 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 nights chill.
I didn't want to leave and that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the Sodier 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.
_Anonymous