On January 28, 1977 during one of News York's worst snowstorm a girl proudly named winter was born.
We lived in the projects but we were fine with that
Our apartment was dipped. We had royal red carpets, top-of-the-line furniture, fully loaded entertainment, equipment, all that good stuff
I loved my pops wit a passion. He was the smoothest nigga in the world. When he came into a room he made a difference. He spoke softly, with deep seriousness
He was light-skinned, tall, wit curly black hair and a fine thin mustache to match. He was medium build, definitely in shape
Mom had everything by the way of clothes and anything else you could think of. Her mahogany skin was smooth as a Hershey's chocolate bar. When she went anywhere she was well coordinated.
I liked midnight for other reasons too. What got me was that black skin. It was smooth and perfect. It laid on top of his bone structure like saran wrap. His arms were cut. I could tell he lifted. He was tall, yet medium-sized and perfect.
His muscles were defined, his veins stuck out, emphasizing his strengths. His neck was slim and strong. His powerful legs were cut as his upperbody.