Winnie-the-Pooh, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Win-knee-the-Pooh: the tip of the lip taking a trip of three steps down the palate to return at four to kiss : Pooh. He was Pooh, plain Pooh, in the morning, standing eighteen inches in one sock. He was that scruffy old bear at school. He was Mr Winnie Pooh on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Bear.