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apportioning's Journal

Created on 2008-04-15 01:56:32 (#15376455), last updated 2008-04-16

75 comments received, 74 comments posted

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Name:the kind ladies.
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So, it's finished.

Yes.

What did we make? What was it, in the end?

What it always is. A handful of yarn; a little weaving and stitching; some embroidering perhaps. A few loose ends, but that's only to be expected. It's the same old story... whatever it turns into on the way, whatever it is you originally undertake to spin or knit or weave, keep it going long enough and, in the end, my lilies, it's always a winding sheet...

Are you satisfied?

Niminy piminy, my pigeon, reflect: and how could I ever be satisfied? It's like we told that young lady, I told her, I said, you've made your bed and now you must eat it.

Eh well. No rest for the wicked. Here we do, tea for three. I found a florentine, a fortune cookie, and a ship's biscuit, who's for what?

I'll take the fortune cookie, my coracle, and have done with it.

Well? What does it say?

Hmph, it's not what I'd call a proper fortune.

-------------------------------

FLOWERS GATHERED IN THE MORNING,
AFTERNOON THEY BLOSSOM ON,
STILL ARE WITHERED BY THE EVENING,
YOU CAN BE ME WHEN I'M GONE.

-------------------------------

It's not even very good poetry.

I wonder how that got in there?

At least it's not a moral. Worse than beginnings, morals. I've got no time for them. No time at all.

Never mind. There. For good or bad, it's done.

 





 



The Kindly Ones belong to Neil Gaiman. This journal belongs to [info]paperpulp or quotidiance (AIM)

 
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