Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
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 of my care,
'cause I'm a woman
phenomenally...
phenomenal woman-
that's me.

Maya Angelou

breast/

ironing.