His Daddy always would stop and stare,
in the window, back in town, at the boots displayed there.
These stops did not go un noticed, to the sons' alert eyes...
yes these boots come Christmas, yes these will be the surprise.
Our world is entangled, a war we do not believe,
these wars seperate family, even on Christmas eve.
Some of our sons and daughters, husband ,brothers
and wives, all fight for a call for freedom.....some
the ultimate sacrifice.
Twas the ringing of the door bell,
a sound some have become to fear,
that brought this waiting family to the brink of endless tears.
Yet there in the door way, not a messenger of bad news,
stood the returning father, home from the war so soon.
Arms hold each other. Son  and Father unite.
This is a Merry Christmas.This is an awsome sight.
The son rushes to the tree, the present  to retrieve.
In his blind joy of his fathers return, there was something he had'nt seen.
As the boots are presented, tears run down the fathers face.
Yes son these are  the very best boots but there is something out of place.
You see I have been wounded, these feet are not really mine.
I lost both of my good ones with a few of my friends lives.
Hey though little buddy, these boots I will always keep.
This Christmas I am still home with you, it only cost me two feet!




* As Long as Our Troops  Are There, We Should Be there Too. If not Physical, then in Mind and Spirit! Ironbutt