by Victoria E. Miera
Here on Christmas morn, when all is not quiet as children rush to the tree, it's visions of you that dance in my head. Last night snuggled in my bed, you stood guard , fighting a battle for those here at home.
Christmas carols playing in the back ground, "Silent night, Holy night" in your hand a rifle you held, while visions of your family danced in your head.
The night before Christmas for you was all but silent, as bullets rang out. It's not the sweet sound you wished for on Christmas eve. The sound of children's laughter, the church bell's calling all the faithful to gather about, is the sound from home that you longed for, and the smell of the pine from wreaths hung on a door.
We here at home, are grateful as we watch the children opening their gifts, from underneath the Christmas tree. The sweet sound of laughter as children squeal in delight, ribbons and paper strewn all about. Lights on the tree a star on the top, all that is missing, is a solider who is never far from our thoughts.
The smell of roast turkey, candied yams and baked ham, Christmas carols, play in the back ground "Silent night, Holy night" as we sit down to dine, we bow our heads in prayer, we vision our solider in a far away land. We give thanks for our freedom on this Christmas morn.
With hands still held, we wish you a "Merry Christmas" as we sing let there be peace on earth and good will to all man. To our soldiers in a far away land, the night before Christmas was all but a silent night.
We here at home this Christmas morn, thank you, as our children are safe, because of your selfless gift, as you stood guard, fighting a war.
We wish you were here, with your family and friends. Instead of in some far away land. With visions of you holding our hands, with heads still bowed, hands still held..... We wish you a "Merry Christmas, may the "New Year bring you safely home.....
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