love match

My parents wanted me married, out of the house. My father was a no-account with a rum blossom on his nose; my mother constantly urged me to go into town and gather orange blossoms (look for a wife, if you’re not from around here).

I went into town, and found a young woman just ready to bloom, to come into blossom. She was a vivacious young creature, rejecting the beaux buzzing about her, her cap set for a young man ready to blossom into something himself. As it happens, her name was Blossom.

Love blossomed, as did we both.

for Carrot Ranch Friday Flash Fiction Challenge

3 Responses

  1. I learned some new (to me) expressions here!

  2. A bounty of blossoms!

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