as soon as i saw you, i knew a grand adventure was bound to happen.
well, not as soon as i saw you
but as soon as you opened your mouth
for what is a human if not a vessel of possibilities;
you breathed all the things they said weren't real
and you were the only person who seemed to hear me
when i described the presence of magic in this backyard -
you caught my eye and nodded slowly with lips that curved upwards
like the tip top branches you won sword fights in as a child and also last friday
because we don't need to grow up to grow smart

O gallant Child,
i'll follow You all 100 acres and then some
trapping heffalumps and tricking woozles
climbing trees and dodging bees
there is a buzzing in my tummy
for i am so enamored by the way you allow any cares
to drip like honey from your fingertips
it doesn't matter if we step on a piece of the
Forest that was left out by mistake
or if we bounce clear outta the book

we can't all and some of us don't
but you certainly do
you are the right sort of bee
and everything i want to be
if possible, try to find a way to come downstairs
that doesn't involve a thump, thump, thump
throughout my entire heart
the way you attempt to spell Tuesday is so respectable
even if you earn a mouthful of leaves on Windsday
i know we're purposely misreading simplicities
but i don't mind if it makes a good story
because of you i still plant honeycombs,
hoping it will grow up into a beehive
and i never forget to check backson

even when the sky is filled with Little Black Rain Clouds,
those days i'm feeling a bit eleven o' clockish,
tracking my own footprints, trapped in pits and doorways and tangled up in paragraphs
thinking of things that seemed very thingish when i thunk
but really is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it -
you shrug your shoulders and suggest,
"what about lunch?"
we giggle at those who sit down on thistles
and continue on with our expedition,
this time with provisions
and most importantly, a balloon

oh, there's plenty do,
me and you,
'cause it's so much more friendly with two
we can sit in the moment just before eating honey
we can listen to all the things we can't hear without bothering
we can stand on the bottom rail of a bridge,
lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath us,
and suddenly know everything there is to be known
we can look for a sandpit and stumble upon home

there is no hurry;
we shall get there someday.
where?
it's hard to say
poetry and hums aren't things you get,
they're things which get you
and all you can do is
go where they can find you
and O gallant Child,
you are my poetry, my hums, my tiddley poms
i'll follow you all 100 acres and then some

and then you got there.

the house at pooh corner -
chapter ten:
"in which christopher robin and pooh come to an enchanted place,
and we leave them there"

it's that time never moves when i'm with you.
doing anything and everything and especially - nothing.

i've analyzed this - nothing
ran it through my paws until they became sticky

it's not that i have very little brain;
it's that you have too big of a heart
so when i ask
"can't we go back to page one and do it all again?"
you nod slowly with lips curved upwards
like the tip top branches you won sword fights in as a child
but you are no longer a child
and neither am i.

you need to turn 100 so i can turn 99.

i'm enamored by the way you've fallen in love with life;
your excitement to grow into it sweet as honey glistening in your eyes
and what is honey if not the premature heartbeat of a flower?
and what is a flower if not the love that blossoms from the earth you touch?
and who are you if not a human,
a vessel of possibilities and love
and a small smackerel of sunshine to spare
for your forever and ever silly 'ol bear