A Marine’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 had to see just who in this home did live.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots full of sand.
On the wall hung pictures, of a distant land.
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 Marine, Once I could see clearly.
The Marine lay sleeping, silent, 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, A United States Marine.
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 Marines, Who where 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 Marines, 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 Marine 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 Marine 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.