Unveiling the Armor Unearthing the Essence

She’s a trauma llama.

She is a force.

I see the armor you wear.

Perched on the edge of your existence spine forward, vigilant.

Her arrival is guaranteed if I garden.

Spade to earth. There she is.

Searching for the soul in her eyes…gently, don’t frighten her. She arrives.

Neither words nor actions can keep you close. I see that now. You bolt at my pungent offering. I had no idea you weren't fond of garlic, did I?