Bobby had no purpose,
No meaning to his life.
He had no friends who loved him,
No children and no wife.

Few ever noticed him,
His life was miniscule.
Just a lowly janitor,
At the local high school.

From dawn till setting sun,
That school was all he knew.
No one tried to learn his name,
They never wanted to.

He was invisible,
Lost in obscurity.
A phantom in the shadows
Of blind iniquity.

Forty years of service
Flew by like wildfire.
And Bobby soon grew weary,
It was time to retire.

But as fate would have it,
As the weeks passed away,
Destiny revealed its hand,
On Bobby’s final day,

Two students produced guns
In the cafeteria.
They began to open fire,
Amid mass hysteria.

But Bobby was right there,
They never noticed him.
And if he hadn’t acted
Things could have gotten grim.

It only took a second
A witness later said,
Bobby swung that mop handle,
Hit one boy in the head.

The other was startled,
Seeing his partner fall.
The janitor just appeared
He would later recall.

In surprise the boy fired,
Point blank at Bobby’s chest.
The bullet lodged near the heart,
As blood poured from his breast.

The boy returned his aim,
Toward the frantic crowd.
But before he opened fire,
Darkness fell, like a shroud.

With Bobby’s final breath,
He cracked him in the head.
The gunman dropped, unconscious,
As Bobby fell down dead.

That was twelve years ago,
And nothing is the same.
Those who can’t forget that day
Remember Bobby’s name.

As for those not present,
Who were not here before,
They can’t help but learn about,
That lonely janitor.

You can’t miss the statue,
Town Square is where it stands.
It shows Bobby keeping watch,
With that mop in his hands.

It honors a hero,
Unnoticed till that day.
Insuring his memory
Will never fade away.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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