jinelson
12-05-03, 08:53 AM
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 full of sand, on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and bodges, awards of all kinds, a sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary, I found the home of a United States Marine, once I could see clearly.
The Marine lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home.
Was this the hero of whom I just read? Curled up on a poncho the floor for his bed.
I realized the families I had saw tonight, owed there lives to these Marines who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play, a grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, because of the Marines like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone, on a cold d Christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knee and I started to cry.
The Marine 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 to God my Country and Corps.
The Marine rolled over and drifted to sleep, I couldn't control it I continues to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still and we both shivered from the nights cold 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, he whispered "Carry on Santa, its Christmas and all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew I was right, "Merry Christmas my friend and to all a good night."
This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan. his only request is that we give credit due these patriots who sacrifice themselves for us.:marine:
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 full of sand, on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and bodges, awards of all kinds, a sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary, I found the home of a United States Marine, once I could see clearly.
The Marine lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home.
Was this the hero of whom I just read? Curled up on a poncho the floor for his bed.
I realized the families I had saw tonight, owed there lives to these Marines who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play, a grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, because of the Marines like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone, on a cold d Christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knee and I started to cry.
The Marine 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 to God my Country and Corps.
The Marine rolled over and drifted to sleep, I couldn't control it I continues to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still and we both shivered from the nights cold 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, he whispered "Carry on Santa, its Christmas and all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew I was right, "Merry Christmas my friend and to all a good night."
This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan. his only request is that we give credit due these patriots who sacrifice themselves for us.:marine: