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.