SPECIAL POEM: ’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,
On 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 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 see this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to
fight.
Soon ’round the world the children would play,
And grown-ups 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 back to sleep.
I couldn’t control, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the night’s cold chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold dark night,
With 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.
