Deep in the Hundred Acre Wood,

Where the wind sways against the branches across the creek,

The daffodils bloom and lavender aroma on the hem of a mere leaf.

Christopher Robin messing in a play pit with Tiger, Piglet, and Winnie the Pooh,

Eeyore solemnly looking for his detached tail, while Kanga prances with little Roo.

Owl snorting and rattling, his wooden rocking chair, back and forth has he dreams away,

Rabbit in his days work; carrot, cabbage, and radish picking in the heat of the sun’s ray.

Pooh’s thinking spot, where an old log lays for Pooh as his brain is unbearably tiny to comprehend,

But as that golden goo sticks to the edge of his “Hunny” pot, he says “Never mind, I’ll find out in the end.”

When day falls into night, Pooh’s imagination begins to drive fear into

his head; their coated fur and obnoxious purple spots

The Heffalumps and Woozles lurk under the shadows, Pooh mumbles, to steal his precious hunny pots.

With time unraveling and Pooh stuck imagining, eventually he falls into a deep sleep.

As “Winds-day” arrives, it heaves Pooh almost off the ground,

As Piglet tugs on the nearest branch, the chilly air seems to know he was bound.

But as the hero of it all, Pooh helps poor Piglet against the winds strong might,

To which Piglet is once again with his savior, pleased and full of delight.

But as come the reckless storms of the Hundred Acre Wood, so did a humongous flood,

With that did the trees began to tumble and things began to stumble, found with filth and mud.

As Pooh in sorrow began to weep for himself, Christopher Robin smiled and said in glee,

“Cheer up Pooh!”, he said “We can’t give up yet, we have to be happy.”

In confusion, Pooh glanced, “Christopher I don’t know what to do.”

The boy grinned and said, “That’s okay we’ll fix it. Tiger, Piglet, Rabbit, Owl, Kanga, Roo, plus me and you!”.

As the days got shorter and nights got longer, Christopher and Pooh’s togetherness slowly began to drift away.

When Christopher approached Pooh, at their favorite meeting spot, and asked Pooh a question one day.

“Pooh”, he said, “When I will leave, will you remember me?”

As a baffling question it was to Pooh, “Yes Christopher, but when and where?”.

Christopher looked ahead, the wind against the edge of the creek.

“Maybe somewhere far away perhaps, just going here and there.”

“Will you ever visit or come back? Or remember me at all?”,

Christopher glanced at Pooh and giggled, “Of course, you silly old bear.”