Her rhythmic song sings fulfillment to the depths for the soul
With music, so caressing that its strokes are unmatched to the human longing.
Her voice round and full, calls to the smoothness of the ocean 
In the summertime
As it waves move lazily upon the waters.
Her ladyship fulfilled as she bends her 
Her young suckle the milk of love’s
Their hearts are filled with hope and assurance as they 
Consume their dreams on mama’s secret strength
 and tenderness.

Her locks firmly tightened, are the glory of 
Her  head.
They lend themselves to blackness and tawny
The beauty of the sun.
They are stretched and entwined again in a 
Dance that en-frames
The glow of her ebony face.
Obedient in versatility a harvest crop about
Her neck and shoulders.

First tightly entwined then straightened with 
The warmness of her combs.
Curling this way and that , her obedient locks
Honor her as none 
Other can.
Hers is solely hers as its movement lacks
Dullness, but speaks
Of loveliness…temperance.

Kissed by the sun and touched with honey
The sweetness of her
Berry is the skin she wears.
Authentically graceful resisting lines of time.

She retains the foundation of youth upon her
So smooth and supple, it remains to the touch as the years go by unnoticed.

Who has made her 
Beauty, but her Maker?
The One who makes no err
Fearfully and wonderfully is the comeliness of His sculpture.
Molded by the prudence of love, which is the sonnet of His heart.
So precious He has made His ode to His 
Black women.