Jokes and Giggles
Copyright© 2015 by Jack Spratt
Chapter 709
T’was 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 mantle, Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures, of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, 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 soldier, Once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor, In this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured, A Canadian/American 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 grownups 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 wonder, How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, In a land far from home.
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