Women might wonder what is the feature that men find the most attractive in a partner. And I could go on for post after post trying to define and explain the mysteries of women, and wouldn’t even come close to the eloquence and beauty used to explain women better than the late and great Maya Angelou. So with that in mind, I leave you with:
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size,
but when I start to tell them,
they think I’m telling lies.
I say,
it’s in the reach of my arms,
the span of my
hips,
the stride of my
step,
the curl of my
lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
I walk into a room
just as cool as you
please,
and to a man,
the fellows stand or
fall down on their
knees.
Then they swarm around me,
a hive of honey
bees.
I say,
it’s the fire in my eyes,
and the flash of my
teeth,
the swing in my
waist,
and the joy in my
feet.
I’m a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much,
but they can’t touch
my inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
they say they still can’t
see.
I say,
it’s in the arch of my
back,
the sun of my smile,
the ride of my breasts,
the grace of my style.
I’m a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.
Now you understand
just why my head’s not
bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
or have to talk real
loud.
When you see me passing,
it ought to make you proud.
I say,
it’s in the click of my
heels,
the bend of my
hair,
the palm of my
hand,
the need for my
care.
’Cause I’m a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.
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