Smell this woman's hair

When I was as innocent as the newest baby girl, I love this woman who's name I did not know.

She sat in front of my auntie & I in church every Sunday & I loved to smell her hair.

I would sit on my aunties lap, lean real close & sniff. Her honey kissed, sandy brown hair made the little girl I was get something past happy & everything over excited.

    I love women with long waterfalls for hair, with curls I can twirl around my fingers, unravel & bounce back into place, their still jumping.

Her skin was chocolate like melted Hershey's kisses & shiner than newly polished apples on the edges of a teachers desk.

    Then one Sunday she turned around, looked down to notice my pink ruffled socks swinging from the bench not nearly touching the floor.

Her curls moved every time her eyes discovered a new part of my body, holding her hand out she held two Sweet Tarts.

    "Hey sweetie, would you like some?"

Her breath smelled like heavens rainbows & a voice better than Sade's, this woman had my innocent soul sinning right in church.

     When I was as innocent as the newest baby girl, I loved to smell this woman's hair. I loved to smell this woman's hair who's name I did not know.