By Dina Corcoran
Her name was always Blossom.
But the young lad had a tricky tongue,
When he spoke her name he garbled it,
So it became “Want some.”
He lived in a castle, hardly squalor,
Where he ate watermelon with his thumb.
One day she swayed by; it made him starry-eyed,
He called out, “Want some?”
A trickle of hope arose in his heart
As the red juice dripped down his chin.
“I’ll volunteer,” she said on a whim,
Going out on a limb, holding back a grin.
Prompt: from the (printed) list pick 10 words at random and fashion a poem, memoir or fiction.
“garble, squalor, always, volunteer, sway, trickle, watermelon, starry,