I don't often send poems or jokes that I gather from this lists, but this is special. Not only for the soldiers in our lives today, but for those in the past. Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1998 11:21:18 -0500 To: cruzm@juno.com, mnjjensen@juno.com, Tenavill@aol.com, karennn@juno.com, dhrogier@juno.com From: April Engroos <jengroos@northweb.com> Subject: the night before christmas Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit > >The Night Before 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 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 the mantel, just boots filled with sand, >on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands. > >He had medals and badges, awards of all kinds, >and a sober thought came through my mind. > >For this house was different, it was dark and dreary, >I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly. > >The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone, >curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home. > >The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder, >Not how I pictured a United States soldier. > >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 soldiers who were willing to fight. > >Soon round the world, the children would play, >and grown ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day. > >They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, >because of the soldiers, like the one lying here. > >I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone, >on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home. > >The very though brought a tear to my eye, >I dropped to my knees as I 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 soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep, >I couldn't control it, I continued to weep. > >I kept watch for hours, so silent so still, >and we both shivered from the night's cold chill. > >I didn't want to leave on that cold dark night, >this guardian of honor so willing to fight. > >Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, >whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure." > > Diana List Owner diana@idea.edu