A treasury of childhood memories
Forgotten in a pinewood box
Discovered on a rainy Sunday
Turn the key and time unlocks
~
My books, my old friends, lay before me
Restored once more to a loving hand
For cross-legged hours I turn the pages
Lost in a paper wonderland
~
The pirate ship her black flag flying
Stormy skies and salty rain
Trade winds fill the straining mainsails
A small boy sails the Spanish Main
~
Take me back to Smoky London
Baker Street buildings grimed with soot
Top hat Holmes, his coat tails flying
“Come Watson, hurry, the games afoot”
~
Plumed knights astride snow white horses
Virgin maidens with downcast eyes
Pooh sticks float on sleepy rivers
Under England’s smiling skies
~
Once again I tunnel the covers
Clandestine reading on a winter’s night
Sylvia Daisy Pouncer whispers
‘The wolves are running’ in the pale torchlight.

What were your childhood favorites?
Have you ever re-discovered your childhood books and spent happy hours reading through them again? Mine spent years forgotten in my loft and the delight of finding them again inspired me to write this little poem.

Pooh sticks are a simple children’s game which may be played on any bridge over running water. Each player drops a stick at the same time on the upstream side of a bridge and the one whose stick first appears on the downstream side is the winner.