Soft Buttercup

Her eyes were furious, but her hair was soft buttercup.
Her words were hostile, but her hair was giddy;
Chasing a neighboring strand into a spiral
That fell lovingly 
Around her face,
Embracing her cheeks,
Kissing her ears tenderly.
Her brows were knit
But her hair shone soft buttercup in the electric alley lights,
Gold dancing lyrically on every strand.
She was laughing mechanically
But her hair was stunning.
She flung it around as she yelled at me,
Hollering
It mesmerized me.
She was furious…
But her hair was still honey.
Until the thunder clashed…
And the rain ambushed us at the street corner,
And then all of the sudden…
Her hair was no longer
Honey.