The fullness of my lips
The roundness of my hips
The narrow of my waist
 The radiance on my face
The power of my mind
The ampleness found behind
The plump of my thighs 
The bravery in my eyes
Glowing brown tones of my skin
The enigmatic benevolence within
The opulent texture of my hair
My clasped arms, a protective lair
That’s the gorgeousness I always see
When the lady in the mirror looks back at me
I am an African woman and would choose no other
I’ve inherited the splendor of my Nubian mothers 
They set the standard for the model of beauty
And that standard still exists today
Attempted forgeries are constantly created
Well, imitation is flattery…isn’t that what they say?