A whimsical, self-description. |
Sweet Cocoa Like hot cocoa on a cold winter’s morn The kind of heat where true passion is born The kind that makes you sweat Makes young men see visions and old men dream dreams In my lips there is nectar In my hips there is strength Beyond the pain in my eyes is a perpetual innocence That life just somehow cannot remove And though I may be bent I am never broken Seldom will you hear a harsh word spoken From these lips of nectar, these hips of strength My path is mine and only mine to choose. Sweeter than the honey Dark as the night Hotter than Texas in the middle of July My mahogany skin so supple and smooth The sway of my hips to my own sexy groove Evokes memories of a lifetime of smoky blues, down home blues Like hot cocoa on a cold winter’s morn The kind of heat where true passion is born My heat can melt the ice of the coldest man’s heart There is healing in my warmth for a world torn apart For the children who never knew the way My spirit will guide them to a better day. For the young ones who seem so lost I’ll be the compass as they try to cross The ocean of eternity. And for the men and women who cross my path I’ll be their refuge in the aftermath Of living. Sweet Hot Dark Inviting Comforting Strengthening Restoring Like hot cocoa on a cold winter’s morn. |