This poem is dedicated to all those who have fallen in battlefields for their respective countries. May they never be forgotten for the sacrifice they gave. <br /> <br />Every day on the frontline of a battlefield, <br />soldiers have a brush with death. <br />Some lose, others win, <br />and for the others death will have to wait. <br /> <br />Each morning they wake up to see the dawn <br />never knowing if this is the last one. <br />They think of their families <br />who wait for them on a distant shore. <br /> <br />They say life is a survival of the fittest, <br />but death never sees it that way. <br />It does not matter how weak or strong you are. <br />If death chooses you to fall, you will. <br /> <br />Therefore, our soldiers go to war <br />to where the battle lines are drawn. <br />All of them hope, but not expect <br />to wake up to see another dawn. <br /> <br />30 April 2009<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brush-with-death-2/
