Sistas

They represent the cream of the crop of women,
Precious in every way,
Both chocolate and red to the bone,
Bright, intelligent, sporting PhD’s in what matters most,
Which is being sistas,
Strongly opinionated, great in the kitchen, the sack
Just passionate,
The fulfillment of the black man’s dreams,
So considering that, I must ask?
Why do so many black men love white women?
Is it their hair? Their eyes?
I ask, ‘cause sistas have the total package,
Long, short, curly, straight hair,
Even shaved heads
And it’s all lovely, natural,
Except for the weave-weavers
And sistas have eyes that are both inviting and alluring,
Maybe some black men want white women
for arm pieces
But a sista stands out like a queen,
Sparking Sparkling with both beauty and knowledge.
If you’re a black man and you don’t have one,
Better strongly seek one,
Though it may be too late for O.J.
What sista wants him?
He must have never known what I know
And what I hope most brothers know,
That sistas are out there in every shape and shade,
Ready and willing to love
And be unyieldingly loved back.