Like Autumn Leaves Poem by David Wood

They expect you to quietly fall facing forward
In the chill December air.
To gain that extra ground
But regarding you, they never care.

You take the job at point, leading from the front
And the first to be seen and shot
In the cold crisp morning snow.
For that is the soldiers lot.

With limbs as cold as ice
You do your very best
And hope to see another dawn
That calms that beating chest.

Morning comes a shade to soon
With it comes no reprieves
You are there because politicians failed,
And to fall like autumn leaves.