A Different Christmas Poem

[ROBZILLA]

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
an



Infanteer

, 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 ' Dieppe
on a day in December,"


Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas
'Gram always remembers."




My dad stood his watch in the hills
of ' Korea

',


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
and white a

Canadian 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."