How did she get her hair like that? They wonder As it lays like lattice Over her shoulder Or coils as a snake Striking and springing. Crimson tinted strands lie under The bluntest of browns. Like a well organized farm The roots lay in rows; It nestles and clings to a head band Like a mother to a child. The distorted confused hairs In the prison cell of a clasp. Nervermore shall she scortch her hair Leaving the tips trembling And roots trampled. She tends to her hair As a farmer tends his crop Daily disipline that yeilds beauty.