A Soldier’s Christmas

Author Unknown

The following poem was requested to be published by a local military family.
    “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 had 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 full of sand,
  On the wall hung pictures of
            far distant lands.
      With medals and badges,
          awards of all kinds,
  A sober thought came to 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 and alone,
        Curled up on the floor,
    in his one bedroom home.
      The face was so gentle,
    the room in such disorder,
        Not how I pictured an
        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 around the world,
        children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a
        bright Christmas day.
        They enjoyed freedom,
      each month of the year,
    Because of these 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
        soon 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.