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If you have a minute to spare please read.......

ProfilePosted byOptionsPost Date

Pamela

Pamela Report 11 Dec 2012 21:38

Thank you Emma, I hadn't come across this poem before.
We often take our peace and safety for granted without realising we owe it to the men and women serving overseas, often away from their own families for months on end.

Pam

Jeniwren

Jeniwren Report 11 Dec 2012 15:48

Thank you for sharing this Emma.
Jean xx

Claddagh

Claddagh Report 11 Dec 2012 12:44

This poem never fails to bring tears to my eyes...thank you Emma for posting it.

Eileen

Von

Von Report 10 Dec 2012 21:14

Thank you for posting Emma
Take care
Von

MarilynB

MarilynB Report 10 Dec 2012 21:09

A lovely poem Emma, thanks

~`*`Jude`*`~

~`*`Jude`*`~ Report 10 Dec 2012 19:18

Thank you Emma:) <3

jude

Mersey

Mersey Report 10 Dec 2012 19:02

Lovley Emms :-) <3

**Ann**

**Ann** Report 10 Dec 2012 19:01

Lovely Emma

Ann x

ButtercupFields

ButtercupFields Report 10 Dec 2012 18:52

Thank you Emma <3

UzziInSunshine

UzziInSunshine Report 10 Dec 2012 16:12

It´s one of those moving poems that appear at this time of year that should make us all take time out to think.

Thank you for posting it this year.

PricklyHolly

PricklyHolly Report 10 Dec 2012 16:00

A minute well spent!

Thankyou for sharing Emma. x

GoldenGirl1

GoldenGirl1 Report 10 Dec 2012 14:33

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 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 disorder,
not how I pictured,
a true british soldier.

Was this the hero,
of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
the floor for a bed?

I realised 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.

The very thought brought,
a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees,
and 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 and still,
and we both shivered,
from the cold night's chill.

I did not want to leave,
on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honour,
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."

One look at my watch,
and I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my Friend,
and to all a good night."


This poem was written by a Peacekeeping soldier stationed overseas.

Emma x