A Soldier's Christmas
'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 stockings 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 Solider.
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 plan,
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 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
Major Bruce Lovely
I found the poem A Soldier's Christmas here: http://www.luvscreations.com/holiday7.htm
'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 stockings 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 Solider.
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 plan,
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 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
Major Bruce Lovely
I found the poem A Soldier's Christmas here: http://www.luvscreations.com/holiday7.htm
3 Comments:
Wow...
This is beautiful! Will have to check out the site! How have you been doing?? Hope everything is going good for you! Hugs!
hi brandy, isn';t this a awesome thing, how blessed we are in this country to have out brave troops to protect us. when push comes to shove. americans will stand up for each other, i saw this in many times since 9-11, those horrible days were one of the saddest things i have ever saw ever. for all the survivors i know they are greatful for being alive, yet sad that others didn't make it. i salute all of these brave people too. i am hoping next year to not need to make helmet liners but if we are fighting some where i will be making them , in major bulk got 50 done total with friends help on 7 but i did 43 next year am aiming to make more. merry christmas brandy. god bless
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