Unimaginables

 

'Well, Piglet.'

'Well, Pooh.'

'How do you feel?'

'Reflective.'

'Ah.'

'Not to mention sombre.'

'We shan't.'

'In fact - enwrapped in unimaginables.'

'Well, you really should buy them in your own size.'

'I have to say, this morning, I definitely felt the hand of destiny.'

'Sorry, that was me - I thought you were sitting on that extra pot of hunny.'

'There will of course be reverberations.'

'I know. I ate it too fast.'

'The need to take stock.'

'Ah...yes. Quite.'

'To ask the unaskable question.'

'To fight the unfootling foe.'

'To bear with unbearable sorrow.'

'To take a left turn at Glencoe.'

'Pooh, what are you on about?'

'Sorry, I thought we were onto that song...you know..."This is my quest...to leach the unleachable tar" - and all that.'

'Hardly appropriate for the present moment, Pooh.'

'I suppose not.'

'There'll be an extended mourning.'

'I don't like the sound of that.  My stomach starts whimpering round eleven.'

'Not that kind of - look, let's just ponder in silence.'

'Right you are.'

'Have a proper mull.'

'Don't we need a mist rolling in from a sea for that?'

'Silence, Pooh.'

'Sorry.'

'No. I'm sorry, Pooh.  I was rather harsh just then.'

'I quite understand - unimaginables chafing, eh?'

9th September, 2022.