A Bear and His Boy
by Brian Biddle
It seems so long since holidays in Hundred Acre Wood
When you and I, and all our friends, would have adventures there.
And even if it rained or snowed, the times were always good,
Life was always magical, for a small boy and his bear.
But I never thought that all we had, could not forever be.
I'm just a bear of little brain and these things bother me.
They tell me you have gone away and never will return.
They tell me life is ended and it cannot be repaired
By use of thread and needle, and they tell me I must learn
That things must have an ending, despite how much we shared.
And they tell me that the boy I knew has died a man
I'm just a bear of little brain I do not understand.
So in the woods we gather as we did in better years
Eeyore and Owl stand silent, with Kanga, Rabbit and Roo,
And Tigger's stopped his bouncing, Piglet's eyes are glazed with tears,
They look to me for comfort as if I know what to do.
And it's then we see him standing there, beneath the hunny-tree.
And for this bear of little brain some things seem meant to be.
For Christopher and old Pooh Bear some things will ever be.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
I remember as a boy playing in a certain part of the woods in Chapel Hill, North Carolina with my younger brother. We called it the "Hundred Acre Wood." Those woods are now developed and there are few reminders in the world of those fun childhood moments with my brother. Christopher Wiatt Myers (May 24, 1971-January 31, 2005) is missed greatly. This poem was originally written for Christoper Milne (1920-1996), son of A.A. Milne, by Brian Biddle; I read it out loud to friends and family after my brother's death, and post it now in his remembrance for my brother was a poet.