POEM OF THE DAY - The Night of the Chocolate Sun

To my mature sisters (I call you seasoned) reading this, know your self worth.  Know that life truly begins after 30 and know that for the rest of your life, you are desired, wanted and beautiful.  This is for you:

The Night of the Chocolate Sun

He was the sweetest thing

she’d ever seen

jet black with pearl white teeth

just barely twenty three

eye lashes like Marabou fans

with braids like silken woven wool

a mole right under his left cheek

the body of a god

His skin glistened from the fusion

of hot water and baby oil

sweet, coy and bashful he was

but as aggressive as a panther in bed

surges of electricity eluded from his underwear

his lightning bolt raging

to strike in her womb

making her feel

alive

yet more alive

with every passing second

in what seemed like a binary moment

from a broken hourglass

he had delicately commandeered his manhood

inside her sacred temple 

and with the oddest bit of curiosity asked,

a question never reserved for a true woman

of hidden candor

he whispered in her ear

while his warm breath

massaged her lobe, taking her mind to a place

far from home

“Ma’am, how old are you?”

So without hesitation, she screamed, “ 46”

And through his thrusts, he replied,

“You are every young man’s fantasy

and every older man’s dream.”

It was at that very moment and all of 20

years of thinking she was a true woman, the sun came

and kissed her…just her

beaming through the ceiling above them

warming her deepest and softest vulnerabilities

to confirm that now she was more than

just a woman,

she  was alive,

she was  treasured

she was desired,

she was beautiful…

still beautiful

with her voice trembling and tears

rolling to the nape of her neck,

she screamed at him to say it once more.

And through his thrusts, he replied,

“You are every young man’s fantasy

and every older man’s dream” .

the sun continued to shine

for hours,

well into days

then weeks

and after countless years

of never setting suns

she contends and wears well, but with decent humility

that she is still and will always remain,

every young man’s fantasy

and every older man’s dream

WYLD STYLZ