I saw him die

a few feet from mine.

Waiting, near yet apart,

at the crosswalk.

A few cautious feet separated us, strangers,

while pavement and waiting connected us, stranger still.

I saw him die

in the black and hateful street.

Bright and innocent, a little girl

pranced to the crosswalk with her golden puppy,

blond curls bouncing merrily.

Pink frills swayed as she twirled;

falling, her eyes shouted clear blue fear.

I saw him die,

a closer stranger than a friend.

He acted, no thought; I could tell.

Leaping, he reached to save her

as she screamed in fear

and her puppy froze, confused.

I saw him die

with desperate eyes, his and mine.

Barely before the speeding truck with

screeching brakes that burned asphalt and rubber,

he reached the girl and

threw her aside, where she cried

when cement tore her knee.

He fell and the truck didn’t

stop

in time.

I saw him die

a hero.