A new Christmas Poem

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.' >

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