The Wanlorn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_wanlorn) wrote2010-04-09 07:39 pm
the_wanlorn) wrote2010-04-09 07:39 pm
Entry tags:
Patricia Fargnoli, "Approaching Seventy"
TODAY WAS THE BEST DAY. Do you want to know why, internet? OF COURSE YOU DO. Because everysecondtuesday wrote me fic. Specifically, she wrote me Bones fic. SUPER SPECIFICALLY, SHE WROTE ME BONES/BOOTH/SWEETS FIC BECAUSE SHE IS THE BEST IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. So, internet, if you should desire to read a totally awesome, totally fucking adorable OT3 5x16 episode tag, HAVE AT IT:
Academic RUINATION as Illustrated by Flowchart byeverysecondtuesday (Bones, Bones/Booth/Sweets, Teen and up)
Seriously, you guys, I love this fic with all my heart right now. It is lolzy and captures everything I love about the three of them. It's an episode tag for 5x16, in which Sweets makes a flowchart detailing why Bones and Booth are ment2b. And it is hilarious and adorable and wonderful.
Also, people of LJ! I have a zillion million DW codes, so if you want one, let me know.
Approaching Seventy
by Patricia Fargnoli
A spider crawls beneath the screen,
designs a web in the corner and waits
with the patience of a calendar.
This is the end of summer,
scent of decay everywhere in the outside air,
flowers, planted last spring with such
a sense of promise, leaving one by one,
disappearing into the earth.
I think of endings--
final page of a novel
and the characters you've come to love
placed on the shelf,
a wave from a doorway-- those slight
or heavy sadnesses---
friend in Sagaponock the last time I saw her,
waving from the dock as the ferry pulled out
and the wake lengthened between us,
or swells on a stormy crossing,
pine boughs, dark, lifting and falling
in heavy rain, one night of my childhood,
beyond the small stair top bedroom
at my aunt's Vermont inn, as I lay awake--
wood smoke and voices from the lobby below,
a memory of suitcases standing by a farmhouse
front door, milk cans topped with snow, the pale
complexion of my mother who left and didn't return,
memory of lilacs--branches my brother and I used to climb through,
scratching ourselves as we hid from each other--
not long ago, at an airport, we hugged goodbye again--
what I left behind when I moved
to this senior apartment--some feeling of usefulness,
half of my books, most of my clothes.
Sometimes, it feels as if I've said goodbye to everyone.
Through the north window, I watch clouds move off
beyond my vision, and somewhere dissolve into rain.
everysecondtuesday wrote me fic. Specifically, she wrote me Bones fic. SUPER SPECIFICALLY, SHE WROTE ME BONES/BOOTH/SWEETS FIC BECAUSE SHE IS THE BEST IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. So, internet, if you should desire to read a totally awesome, totally fucking adorable OT3 5x16 episode tag, HAVE AT IT:Academic RUINATION as Illustrated by Flowchart by
everysecondtuesday (Bones, Bones/Booth/Sweets, Teen and up)Seriously, you guys, I love this fic with all my heart right now. It is lolzy and captures everything I love about the three of them. It's an episode tag for 5x16, in which Sweets makes a flowchart detailing why Bones and Booth are ment2b. And it is hilarious and adorable and wonderful.
Also, people of LJ! I have a zillion million DW codes, so if you want one, let me know.
Approaching Seventy
by Patricia Fargnoli
A spider crawls beneath the screen,
designs a web in the corner and waits
with the patience of a calendar.
This is the end of summer,
scent of decay everywhere in the outside air,
flowers, planted last spring with such
a sense of promise, leaving one by one,
disappearing into the earth.
I think of endings--
final page of a novel
and the characters you've come to love
placed on the shelf,
a wave from a doorway-- those slight
or heavy sadnesses---
friend in Sagaponock the last time I saw her,
waving from the dock as the ferry pulled out
and the wake lengthened between us,
or swells on a stormy crossing,
pine boughs, dark, lifting and falling
in heavy rain, one night of my childhood,
beyond the small stair top bedroom
at my aunt's Vermont inn, as I lay awake--
wood smoke and voices from the lobby below,
a memory of suitcases standing by a farmhouse
front door, milk cans topped with snow, the pale
complexion of my mother who left and didn't return,
memory of lilacs--branches my brother and I used to climb through,
scratching ourselves as we hid from each other--
not long ago, at an airport, we hugged goodbye again--
what I left behind when I moved
to this senior apartment--some feeling of usefulness,
half of my books, most of my clothes.
Sometimes, it feels as if I've said goodbye to everyone.
Through the north window, I watch clouds move off
beyond my vision, and somewhere dissolve into rain.
no subject
I'm really glad you enjoyed it! Seriously, I spent way too long staring at the send button going "This is so ridiculous! She will hate it! You've never even written Sweets before, self!" so it was a relief that you liked it after all. ♥
no subject