Dark Hair Shorn

Militant girl full of fire and conviction
She angrily decries the male oppressor
Who would despoil her darker hair
(Though she demands a smooth-shorn chin)
It is years later that I see her
Older, holding some mid-level job
She seems more fashionable
Groomed and outfitted in slick half-suits
That let on she's a woman
While pretending she's a man
At some point I realise
As she reaches for some jar or bowl
That simple fashion caught her
Tamed the fire that had warmed me
And brought to her the shaving fold