'CR..' said Pooh, holding his paw tight round CR's hand as he did when he had a Disturbing Thought, 'how do you pronounce St? '
The Animals were agitated. It was like a day in March when the wind blew leaves and things to finish up where they shouldn't be. Some tourist had thrown aside an academic paperback with an essay on 'The Divine Symbolism of Dante and Hundred-Acre Wood' by someone called Po... (the page was torn just there) .
'St, Pooh? That's not a real word...'
'It says I'm really St Peter, CR, and you're Jesus Christ and Eeyore's St Thomas... CR, who's Jesus Christ? '
'Oh that's a swear-word that grown-ups use, but it must be a silly book, 'cos I'm not allowed to say it anyway... Silly old Pooh' said CR fondly.
'Oh that's all right then. I thought I might be someone else and not know it', said Pooh. He relaxed his grip on CR's hand, and the boy and his bear walked happily together down the path towards the Poohsticks Bridge, the occasional twig cracking under their feet, like they do after a mad March wind has put them in the wrong place...
A fairy tale in which all of us, . misplaced children one and all, can believe.
This is wonderful. I hope you're going to write more of them. Hugs Anna xxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your magic with words is simply spellbinding....this is outstanding!