VESSEL OF AN AFRICAN WOMAN
The African woman,
Proud in her role and ability to house a nation.
Black and shining,
Like dark cocoa is her skin,
With long, coarse hair woven into royal braids,
Sitting atop her head like a crown.
Her forehead pimples in season,
Furrows with worry for the welfare of her child.
Eyes large and dark
With lips wide, plump and shapy saying nothing if what is seen.
Her flat nose smells the whiff of her son's soil faster than a
This head housing a brain that quietly runs like a clock, sits at the pinnacle of a long graceful neck,
Giving rise to soft flesh topped by dark poinyy nipples,
Oh how sweet they taste, her son acclaims,
Never wanting to relinquish his proprietary hold,
Her softly swollen belly is in contrast to her breasts, emphasizing the size with the difference,
Tightly curled wisps of hair covers her honeypot,
So warm and tight,
Sweet and inviting
Never refusing entrance to her head,
Her smooth thighs hold up firm buttocks,
That shake, till, and vibrate with the heavy step of her flat feet,
Stirring passion from all who suffer the sight.