Wiregrass Seniors Magazine December 2017 DECEMBER ISSUE | Page 13

WiregrassSeniorsMagazine.com
A Veterans
Night Before
Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & 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 the fire, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awa rds of all kind
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and dreary,
I knew I had found the home of a soldier,
once I could see clearly.
I heard stories about them, I had to see more
So I walked down the hall and opened the door.
And there he lay sleeping silent alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.
His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?
His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
Owed their lives to these men who were willing
to fight.
Soon 'round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on a bright
Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of soldiers like this one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
Just 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."
With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
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