Twas the night before Christmas, a soldier lived all alone. In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I didn't come down the chimney with presents to give. I wanted to see just whom in this home did live. I looked all about, a strange sight I did see. No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stockings by the mantle, just boots filled with sand. On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands. With medals and badges and awards all alike... a sobering thought came to my mind. This house was different... so dark and dreary. I could tell this was the home of a Soldier, one like you and me. The soldier lay sleeping, quiet and alone. Curled up on the floor of his one bedroom home. This place was so still, the room in such disorder, not how I pictured a United States Soldier. If this is the hero of whom i just read, curled up on a poncho with a floor for a bed. I care why ____???______who are willing to fight. Soon Round the world the children would wake and run around and celebrate this bright Christmas Day. They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year because of a soldier like this one right here. I couldn't help wonder how many lie alone. On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home. The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry. The soldier awakened and I heard in 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 spirit, my country my Core/CORPS? The soldier ...
Tags: VID, 20111208, 192149
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