This week on a car trip I listened to the audiobook of Winnie the Pooh and laughed anew at the stories I loved as a child. I especially always love that Pooh is a poet, and makes up poems when he’s feeling sad, or glad, or just because. They are often nonsensical but always fun to repeat.
This lead me, in turn, to pick up my copies of A.A. Milne’s poetry books and revisit them. I was home alone and found myself reading them aloud, because that is what I felt like doing (As an aside, being home alone can be just fabulous for thing like reading!).
And I came back to how much I love many of those poems, but always always this one:
Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where I sit.
there isn’t any
(you can read the rest of the poem, which is copyright, here)
Why this poem? I think because, growing up, we had a big staircase and those stairs were the scene of a lot of games. I grew up in a country hotel and we lived upstairs while my parents ran their business downstairs. the stairs were not grand, but to a child they were exciting, and adventurous, and I spent many hours trying to master jumping to skip more than the bottom three, or to slide down the bannister (sorry Mum). But also, just sitting on the stairs, reading, or waiting for Mum, or dreaming.
So, it seemed this poem was written just for little me. And when I read it now I still get the tingle of rightness of this being for me, about me. Do you have a poem from your own childhood that does this – or, like me, more than one such poem?
I am pretty sure I have shared this clip before, but what’s not love about Robin the Frog sharing my favourite poem?
These days I don’t love stairs so much, but on my beach walks, I do need to climb down (and then, of course, back up)these amazing stairs.
And now I’m off to find more poetry that makes me smile, because it’s Poetry Friday, hosted today by Carmela at Teaching Authors.