A note from Santa.....well sorta

'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 Sobering Thought

Came Through My Mind.

For This House Was Different

It Was Dark And Dreary

I Found The Home Of A U.s. Marine

Once I Could See Clearly.

The Warrior Lay Sleeping Silent,

Alone Curled Up On The Floor

In This One Bedroom Home

From Distance Far Off Shores.

The Face Was So Gentle

The Room In Such Disorder

Not How I Pictured

A United States Warrior.

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 Warriors Who Were Willing To Fight.

Soon Round The World

The Children Would Play

And Grownups Would Celebrate

A Bright Christmas Day.



They All Enjoyed Freedom

Each Month Of The Year

Because Of The Warrior

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 Warrior 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 Warrior 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 Warrior Rolled Over

With A Voice Soft And Pure,

Whispered, Carry On Santa,

It's Christmas Day, All's Secure."

One Look At My Watch

And I Knew He Was Right

"merry Christmas My Friend,

Simper Fi And Good Night."

From a Soldier in Kabul Afganistan,

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the
> room and I cherished the sight.
> My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me,
> angelic in rest.
> Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a
> winter delight.
> The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that
> was Christmas Eve.
> My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by
> love I would sleep.
> In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I
> started to dream.
> The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes
> when it tickled my ear.
> Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the sure sound of
> footsteps outside in the snow.
> My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door
> just to see who was near.
> Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure
> stood, his face weary and tight.
> A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old, Perhaps a Marine, huddled
> here in the cold.
> Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me,
> and my wife and my child.
> "What are you doing?" I asked without fear, "Come in this moment, it's
> freezing out here!
> Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve, You should be at
> home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
> For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift, Away from the cold and the
> snow blown in drifts..
> To the window that danced with a warm fire's light Then he sighed and
> he said "Its really all right, I'm out here by choice. I'm here every
> night."
> "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That separates you
> from the darkest of times.
> No one had to ask or beg or implore me, I'm proud to stand here like
> my fathers before me.
> My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December," Then he sighed,
> "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
> My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam', And now it is my turn
> and so, here I am.
> I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me
> pictures, he's sure got her smile.
> Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag, The red, white, and
> blue... an American flag.
> "I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family,
> my house and my home.
> I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in
> a foxhole with little to eat.
> I can carry the weight of killing another, Or lay down my life with my
> sister and brother..
> Who stand at the front against any and all, To ensure for all time
> that this flag will not fall."
> "So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright, Your family is
> waiting and I'll be all right."
> "But isn't there something I can do, at the least, "Give you money," I
> asked, "or prepare you a feast?
> It seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from
> your wife and your son."
> Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love
> us, and never forget.
> To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone, To stand your
> own watch, no matter how long.
> For when we come home, either standing or dead, To know you remember
> we fought and we bled.
> Is payment enough, and with that we will trust, That we mattered to
> you as you mattered to us.