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IN HONOR OF ALL OUR VETERANS AND CURRENT MILITARY PERSONNEL

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 the mantel, just boots filled with sand.

On the wall hung pictures of far distance lands.

He had medals and badges, awards of all kind,

And 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 still,

Curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home

The face so gentle, the room in such disorder,

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 that night

Owed their lives to these soldiers who are willing to fight.

Soon around the world the children would play

And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.

Because of soldiers like the one laying here,

I couldn’t help but wonder how many lay alone

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far away from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees as I 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, so still,

And we both shivered from the night’s cold chill,

I didn’t want to leave on that dark, cold night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over with a soft voice and pure,

Whispered, “Carry on Santa. It’s Christmas.

All is secure.”