Price

His eyes remained open,

With a ceaseless gleam;

Some hopes, Some desires,

Some unfinished dreams.

The agonized face,

Could say a thousand words;

He was dead for hours,

In a clotted pool of blood.

His pocket had a picture,

Of his wife and little son;

He thought he would see them,

Once the war was done.

He was one of the many dead,

Their stories are never told;

For their families and children,

It is the end of their world.

We live our life in selfish ways,

But have we ever thought;

What price the soldiers pay,

For the life that we have got?