Don't I look your ideal bride?
With my khol-lined eyes and sweet rosy cheeks
Won't I make your heart leap?
With my perfectly pointed nose and ears adorned with strands of lovely pearls
Or with my lips
Thin and lush, untouched and awaiting
So then, won't I make the standard bride?
My hips don't lie
The mirror can testify
And if you still don't believe
Then ask my flat tummy
I'd ask you again
If I still don't up the standard
But my skin speaks volume than a thousand trumpets set on loose
Spotless, flawless, soft to the touch
You'd think I've just been born cos it's as smooth as a bouncy newly born
Hair shiny and silky
Scalp clear and rich
Strands fluffy and jolly
Awaiting your touch
So they can thank you
The red henna against my light skin
A harsh contrast like the day and night
Simply complimenting my skin as it brings out it's radiance all the more
Are you still wondering if I make an ideal bride?
I'll walk gently on the aisle, one foot over the other
With my white fabric -the cotton, the tulle, the chiffon- all in one piece softly bouncing on the floor
Or you want a sari? Or an ankara? Or a simple dress?
I will wear whatever
Make me your bride
Or don't I still
Look the ideal bride?