The Sound Of Bugles

(poems go here) he sound of bugles rolls gently across the field, Over the broken bodies of men that god did not shield. Those lucky but unlucky men who survived the day, With tears in their eyes slowly limp away. They think of their brothers who they left behind, With the question "why did I survive?" weighing on their minds. They know that only those who died finally are at rest, They know that they died fighting and did their very best. Though the real question isn't if they will see their comrades again, But rather when.