Sep 18, 2015
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.
The low base glides, our long legs slide side to side in sublime.
Each one of our moves exhibits its own uniqueness.
Hips pivot, lips pucker, beauty so deep it’ll make his knees buckle,
My...my... the heritage of African pride: dance of welcome, rite of
passage, dance of love and much more, it will impress upon you as
violets, diamonds and pearls. As we harmonize from the
drums enchanting power, sweat swims along our spine as we
whine and whine the hour. The hot jazz savors romance in the air.
On one accord, no envy, no strife in one singing eye,
There is not a care today for the ladies wear a smile.
A smile that evokes emotion and sips from sweet oceans.
Like tooted butts and potions of southern hospitality…
This is our roots; this is the respect we give as women.
Our strength stands tall in the walk of whispering winds.
Listen to it blow from ear to ear. We are the horizon among
church pews, barstools and awestruck men.