Sweet lil Chocolate Drop,
as she blushed shyly,
at the somewhat, endearing name.
Asking boldly of its origin,
mentally allowing its signature,
to seep in,
After all, like a shadow it followed straight pass her teens.
As she became full of deep questions, hopeful wishes,
and a mirage of dreams.
Her dreams were always in color, detailed to the tee,
in some, her travels were like missions,
she woke abruptly from,
too be free.
No one ever inquired about the seriousness locked behind Chocolate’s hazel/grey eyes, most only spoke of her wit, beauty and mannerisms, being rare, for a little girl her size. By late teens, she found comfort in the name and mysterious stare, it was her entrance, into being more observantly aware, as nothing got passed her, not without her approval,
from taught lessons, that occurred, strength became her renewal.
In adulthood she was revisited often by longer and shortened version’s of her youthful name,
she’d began hearing more frequently, Hot chocolate and Chocolatey,
unaware of its designated,
rhyme and reasonable fame.
Knowing nothing of her cocoa scent, and longtime addiction too it’s rich flavor,
it began a rebellious brewing inside, in which she thought,
dealt with opposing behaviors.
Then a stranger re-explained,
that her smooth skin gave off a liquidy, rippling sweetness,
only comparable a tribute too the aspects of chocolate’s name. Even in solid form its richness was arousing, and not to question,
but be proud of how she was seen,
that held her beauty,
so powerfully, breathtaking.
It’s name must be said,
too take in all your intoxicating quality.
From that point on she welcomed it, for how it was passionately expressed.
Although she analyzed each circumstance,
on a case by case, basis.
She grasped the concept that everyone, should enjoy, what made each individual different, at the start of each race.
It took her back too a comfortably whispered wind, from youth,
too serenely hear,
no matter the ages too escape Chocolate Drop chimed in,
from her history, as deeply rooted, as before, and still was
sweet music forever,
too her homesick ears.
Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose
Copyright (c) 2017