TITLE: Once upon a White House

AUTHOR: Demon Faith

EMAIL: demon_faith@btopenworld.com

CATEGORY: Poetry, Josh/Donna

SPOILERS: General J/D knowledge for seasons 1 through 3, specific reference to events in: Pilot, The Short List, In Excelsis Deo, Mandatory Minimums, 20 Hours in LA, ITSOTG 1 and 2, The Midterms, The Portland Trip, Noel, The Leadership Breakfast, The War at Home, Ellie, 17 people, 18^th and Potomac, Two Cathedrals, Manchester, Ways and Means, On the Day Before, War Crimes, Women of Quamar, and Dead Irish Writers.

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: The entire chronicle of Josh and Donna – told in rhyme.

DISCLAIMER: I really own nothing except an absurd ability to place fact in verse. Aaron Sorkin owns the West Wing, and I am just laying tribute to his endless ability to keep stringing us along!

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Yeah, this isn’t really fan-fiction. This is history and canon in rhyme. This is the result of mock exams and resultant stress.

Take note of two of Josh’s lines, as that may explain some things:

‘Interpreting the classics with US Poet Laureate, Donnatella Moss’ 20 hours in LA

‘I’m as sweet as pecan pie’ Ways and Means (I think)

Hope you enjoy a different look at J/D through the first three seasons. I haven’t seen Season 4, and I’m ignoring all rumours I’ve heard.

Once upon a White House

Under Sorkin’s sky

A couple, there was, a forbidden love

Between a poet and a pie

The poet is our heroine

Formed in alabaster white

Fond of stamps and coffee cups

And men who are always right

And then our pie of pecan

A legend in his mind

Carrying guilt and scars of old

Absolution he needs to find

Our story begins as Winter dies

And Valentine plays his game

When Donnatella met Joshua

And proved value was her aim

Soon, he could not live without

Her banter and her wit

But his life was once more empty

When she decided she must quit

Left with Mandy, all alone

Our pie began to crack

And he wished and hoped and pleaded

That out poet would come back

Under clouded skies of April

When the rosebuds start to bloom

Our poet returned to her pie

And banished the Witch of Doom

Now, they stood through everything

From death to election high

And she even brought his coffee

When his career looked sure to die

But still denial continued

Romance didn’t show her face

Despite the fall of ceilings

And a book with words of lace

The pie dressed up for a pollster

And the poet found a gomer or two

But betrayal and lies ended that

The skies began to turn blue

Until a dark night at Rosslyn

When bullets fell like rain

The word ‘hit’ lost all meaning

Hades looked a life to gain

But the thread held strong, the scissors blunt

And the pie stayed within this world

Poet helped rebuild, and bake again

Yet the flag of love stayed furled

Things almost became normal

But a shadow still remained

‘Self-worth’ was a bitter wound

Her value had been disdained.

But when the shadow had a name

After glass and fear and song

The poet helped pie find himself

Christmas stayed too long

Underwear and firewood

Eclipsed the hurt and pain

They were almost something

Until Joey appeared again

Confessed sabotage and misdirection

A monogram on a towel

Ridiculous games and more denial

The state of our union had run foul

One cinema trip and still it took

Pretty flowers to reveal

That red lights and alcohol

Were symbols of how they feel

But no, our couple cannot have

The happiness of love

Because secrets, lies and illness

Shattered their dreams from above

A close friend and mentor

Had been torn away

And all that they believed in

Was stolen in one day

Pie ruined the tobacco fight

And poet fussed over his sleep

But the spark of anniversary

Was lost in the deceit

As they drifted far away

The poet found another

Who was everything pie was not

An ideal rebound lover

When the pie found out, it was Hell

The poet suffered at his wrath

When lies just fell from her lips

The pie simply led her from the path

The pie found his revenge

And the balloon girl enters the scene

(This is the point where true shippers

Hurl things and start to scream)

So there appears no hope for weeks

As the poet can only stare

At the pie who should’ve belonged to her

Keeps waltzing without care

Seasons come and seasons go

Still only crumbs fall in the light

There’s only one thing left to do

Put pen to paper and WRITE!