"A Soldier's Christmas" 

> > > 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 eye 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 Army or 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"
> > >
> > > "Its 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 sisters and brothers
> > >
> > > who stand at the front against any and all,
> > > to insure 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.

> Author is Michael Marks It was written on December 7,
> 2000.  

> > >
> > > ==============================================================
> > >
> > > WE ALL NEED TO PRAY FOR OUR MILITARY
> > > PERSONNEL EVERY NIGHT, THEY ARE IN
> > > SOME VERY VERY TIGHT PLACES.