> > A Different Christmas Poem
> >
> >
> > 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."
> >
> >