May 23, 2012
Swaying to our groove as the tempo moves us to and fro.
The light chime of the cymbal goes ta..ti...ta...ti..ta..ti before the low base glides by.
Our long legs slide side to side in sublime. Each one of our moves its uniqueness.
Hips pivot, lips pucker, beauty so deep make his knees buckle.
My...my... the heritage of African roots : dance of welcome, rite of passage
dance of love and many more. It will impress you like violets, diamonds and pearls.
We are harmonized from the beats enchanting power.
Sweat beads upon her spine as she whines and whines the hour.
The hot jazz savors romance in the skies.
On one accord , no envy or strife within singing eyes.
There is not a care today because these ladies wear a glorious smile.
One that evokes emotion and drinks the ocean of sensual gestures.
Like tooted butts inviting a southern pleasure.
This is our cry. This is the respect we give as women.
Our strength abounds in sound of whispering wind, blowing from ear to ear.
We are the horizon beneath church pews, bar stools and awestruck men.