Bride of Broccoli

There are florets in her hair
And her arms are smooth as stalks.
She has an emerald complexion
And she crunches when she talks.

I didn’t like her much at first-
My hair is white and clumpy
My stalks as light as butter
My appearance a bit dumpy

I thought she was too good for me
And I stayed all by myself
Till broccoli went and checked me out
There on the freezer shelf.

She said, cauliflower, you’re one hell of a flower
To have such durable petals;
Goodness, your stalk looks so buff
You must’ve won Olympic medals.

And I realized I didn’t like broccoli
Just cause I didn’t like me.
I was jealous of her everyday brightness
And personality.

I pretended to be confident
And proudly accepted her compliment
We’re getting married third Sunday of June,
And I’ll be the bride of broccoli soon.

Before you say - we’re two female stalks,
Yes, I can be the bride of a bride.
Our plans for after the wedding
Are going to vegetable Pride.

Written for a daily contest, The Writer’s Cramp, for a prompt to write about someone learning to like broccoli.

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