T'was the night before Christmas

[southerngale]

T'was the night before Christmas.
They 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 find out who wanted in this house to live.

I looked all about me - 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 the pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, and awards of all kinds,
one sober thought came into my mind...
because this house was different, it was too dark and too dreary;
I'd found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

The soldier lie sleeping - silent...alone,
curled up on the floor in this one-bedroom home.
His face was so gentle - the room ... such disorder!
not at all how I'd pictured a United States soldier.

Was this really the hero of whom I'd just read
curled up on a poncho with the floor for his bed?

I realized all the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who are willing to fight.

And soon, round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a new, bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year...
because of each of the soldiers (like the one lying here).

And I couldn't help wonder how many others lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
This very idea brought a tear to my eye...
and I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

Then, the soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice, saying,
"Santa, don't cry...this life is MY choice;
"I fight for freedom, and I don't ask for more -
my life is my God, my Country, my Corps."

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep.
I could not control it - I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours......so silent...so still.
and the both of us shivered from the long, cold night's chill.

I just could not abandon on that long, cold dark night this
guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, and, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on, Santa -Christmas Day 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.

[CaptinCrunch]

That was VERY COOL!!!

[pojo]

That's Marines for you... Air Force we'd crawled into a hotel room!