Looking for Christopher

little20black20rain20cloud

A dark cloud, a Pooh cloud, follows thoughtfully overhead.
I cannot seem to lose it; it shadows me everywhere I go, full of
worry
fear
doubt
disappointment.

It grows heavier and heavier with each step, and
soon will release a torrent upon my head.

I have no protection once the cloud erupts;
my umbrella is broken, turned completely inside out.

Ah! There he is – my Christopher Robin!
Sunshine has smashed through the sky, full of
joy
confidence
faith
patience.

About justbrinkley

poetry, flash fiction, prompts from a southern granny who should have been a writer.
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