I thought I saw ‘the one who left too soon’.

(I call him that to separate my thoughts,

Of those amongst the living with his name.)

He spoke but once, inquiring of my life,

Just like him, to think of others first,

And not to tire the listener with himself,

His petty cares, his grumbles, or his pains.

“I lived for you as well,” I told him,

“I made each moment count because I knew,

Four score and ten are not bestowed on all.”

His tragic fate had not been all in vain,

He nodded, smiled, and then withdrew again.