Christmas Tree Boots
© 2011 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved
Filled with dirt,
Frozen through,
It started there,
In WW two.
Tradition: it starts somewhere.
A friend had died,
Though not alone,
And given up
His boots to Jones.
Christmas: it started there.
Rhoades took the boots
And dug the dirt,
And carried it
Wrapped in his shirt.
Stacking: starting with Jones’.
And from there
It all began,
Tradition passed
From Man to Man.
Trees: from shoes one owns.
In the circle,
Toes pointing out,
Recall the names
That it’s about.
Filling: support to give.
Ten to eight,
Eight to six,
Six to four,
Soon it’s fixed.
Single: from one who lives.
A soldier’s boot
Now stands tall
For Christmas-time
Has come to all.
Tree: dirt-filled soldiers’ boots.
In frozen snow,
Or sandy desert,
It helps to ease
A soldier’s hurt
Normalcy: our own roots.
When next you see
A soldier brave
Remember thank them,
Salute their grave.
Freedom: won day by day.
Even on Christmas
They gave their all,
Served our country,
Answered the call.
Sacrifice: the price they pay.
Imagine now
The soldiers’ boots,
Stacked up tall,
First owners mute.
Blood: red and green contrast.
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