sequel

and pooh, having handed over the honey pot, now watches on, uncertain if he had made the right decision. sure, Chris was definitely more important, than the world, than anything else in the Hundred Acre Wood; sure, it had been a sincere decision, there was no half-hearted-ness in it. he was willing, but would he be able? would his heart be able to take the piercing sight of a honey pot just within reach but not in hand?

and he wonders why now. why such an odd question by Chris. is he perhaps, worrying too much? Chris gazes into Pooh's eyes with the deepest affection, he eyes glistening, his arms stretched around the bear's shoulders. just that look from Chris, is enough to comfort him, enough to tell Pooh that perhaps it was all going to be fine. just trust him. just trust him.

maybe it wasn't all that bad. Chris did give him a lick or two now and then. a little glimmer of happiness a day. but something told him that Chris was teaching him a lesson, and sure enough, the portions each day lessened, and continued to decreased. and Pooh's dependence on the dear honey pot waned, slowly but surely.

to a point. where in the evening sunset - again the silhouettes on the hill - Chris simply passes the pot back to Pooh. Pooh's delighted, but suddenly, as he takes a scoop out of the pot, he looks at Chris, and realizes, just how much he had learned to love him more. honey had never tasted so sweet in his life, and it wasn't just the honey from the pot, but the sweet fellowship with his dear friend Chris.

in his wildest dreams. in his wildest dreams.