Somebody sent me a poem about somebody else (whose name might have been Bobby) who was run down by a truck and splattered all over the scenery. The poem was meant to cheer me up, and I must admit that it did have a cheerful ring to it.
I am stuck (marooned might be a better term) by rising floodwaters as we speak, with no choice but to just watch – and hence the need for cheering up. So I thought I’d run with the idea and let it go wherever my mind took me.
But my mind, of course, has very predictable destinations.
*
Little bits of Bobby
Scattered everywhere
Dismembered by a lorry
Because a driver didn’t care
That my hopes and dreams
Were shattered
In all the blood and all the gore
All those little bits that mattered
They’re not Bobby anymore
Little bits of Bobby
On the highway, laying still
With her, I had myway
Though ‘twas not against her will
Up upon a mountain
Beneath a million miles of stars
I showed little bits of Bobby
To little men on Mars
And then for half a century
Little Bobby wasn’t seen
Until flattened by a lorry
(or she might as well have been)
I’m just a blot upon her copy book
She’s a blot upon the street
But if not for briefly brushing it
No life would be so sweet
Little bits of Bobby
How was she to know?
I’d carry little bits of Bobby
Everywhere I go
*
Richmond Road 
Hope you’re treading water😳. Freaky weather everywhere 🙄
Sent from my iPhone
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A house of strong swimmers, fortunately.
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I’ve only been through one flood and it was in Houston. We luckily happened to live on high ground. Stay safe!
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This Bobby of yours sounds amazing, influential. Pity she’s dead.
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Sadly, yes. But amazing. Memorable (as far as I remember). And, now in her prime, to be squashed by a passing truck – as flat as a piece of paper that you might fold up and put in your pocket – it’s a real tragedy, as are many great stories.
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Just don’t go collecting any of the flattened little bits of Bobby for keepsakes😂😂😂
We could use some of that rain here in SoCal! Mother Nature seems quite angry at us humans… rightfully so! I hope your kangaroo neighbors can swim too🤞
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Come on, Angie. Can’t I keep just one little bit? Nothing specific.
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Little bits of Bobbie … floating in the wind … mixing with the rain … sparkling in the dew …
I can see her now …
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I think everybody can see her if they really want to see her. We all have our own Bobby, in one form or another.
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