I saw her in Morocco at a party. She danced as I sat shy,
but aroused many many years ago. She cooked for me, and told me her name was
Fatima. She was from Senegal. She was tall, dark and her allure and its power
was not poetry it was raw unleashed power that grasped and filled me. I was
unable to resist, but I did, but everyone in attendance knew the dance she
danced between my legs was for me. Even though I was just learning the
languages her language was crystal and clear to me...
“I could be your wife. I could be your lover. I could be in you. Can you live without me if you turn me down, or I walk away from seducing
you?”from Songs of a Father by Gregory E. Woods
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