Ode to a Virtuous Black Woman

Ah, there she was...pretty mocha body glistened in the early morning sun…looking so “good,” I thought I’d get me some...Slight gap between her legs and hips that spread, and hair that ran down her back, and what a rack, but it wasn’t packed? The real deal I wanted to “mack.”

Bedroom eyes that aroused my nature. Legs like a Gazelle and a smile that yelled and made me swell. I wanted to run into her arms to thrill my charms! But I had to find out if she was free to be with me.

But hold up, it wasn’t all fun. I was looking to raise a daughter and a son. Wasn’t looking for a cheap thrill that would make me ill. I was looking for a wife for the rest of my life and she fit the bill!

I had my run with the white girl. But black, brown, and mellow yellow was for this fella. You got yours and I got mine. It doesn’t mean anything but preference of selection by detection. I saw past the ass and I was moved by her class.

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and gets better as we get older. So, grow up and hold her up…Sexy leaves something to the imagination, so don’t treat her with humiliation. Find her “G” spot, but not for her “twaut.” I’m talking bout everything she got that makes her hot.”

I found what I needed, not just what I wanted. Someone that black history wrought. A beautiful black woman from my heritage who knows the struggles I fought. I’m down with that, a beautiful black woman who has my back!

I’m not into fake hair, ass, or breast that hang later like a shopping bag full of mess. Handbags, shoes, hair, nails, and toes don’t define a lady but states what she owes. You just in debt and that’s not best for the rest.

Don't get it twisted. There’s nothing wrong with some makeup; a little here, a little there, giving that woman a sexy flair. But you can’t put lipstick on a pig! You know what I mean...a pole dance to make it rain…after that, you are left in pain.

If the personality is not right, the relationship isn’t tight. Nothing can make you beautiful if your attitude speaks louder than words. It means you are like a “tird,” full of shit, and at best you’ll become like a witch, casting a spell that seduces a man to hell.

I know you can’t judge a book by its cover. But when I read the book and see the red flags, it tells me I better take another lover. Go ahead, and follow what you see, or take a long look and read another book that has your destiny.

So, you see, I love a virtuous black woman. That’s what I see. She’s who I am, a reflection of me. She’s a natural beauty, sexy by nature, not naughty or nasty. But the irony is when she gets through loving you, you’ll feel like you went to heaven and back on a slow track. It’s born in her; to shake that ass without losing her class.

A Virtuous Black Woman