Soldier's Holiday

Soldier's Holiday

A man, he came to me so blue,
And said these words to me, so true,
“Away from home on Christmas Day,
Why should it have to be this way?

‘I’ve got a friend there in Iraq,
For Christmas, he could not get back,
His son got gifts, a card, a call,
But not his father, not his all.

‘Christmas is a time of joy,
A time of mirth, for girls and boys,
Yet while his father is at war,
Holidays are fun no more.”

Then as the boy, he grew to five,
His father, still fighting to stay alive,
Sent his love from far away,
Wishing to be there on that day.

Father’s Day, it came so quick,
The boy sent cards, envelopes thick,
Saying how much his father was missed,
All he wanted was a hug and a kiss.

Other holidays came and went,
Two dozen cards received and sent,
The day approached of his return,
The two would then at last re-learn.

As the father got on the plane,
The one to bring him home again,
He bought a gift to give the son,
Rejoicing that his tour was done.

The father’s plane, it landed safe,
To his son the gift he gave,
The son looked at his father’s face,
“Today’s a brand new holiday!”

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