“Her armor appears fragile – a delicate shell of silk and perfume. Life's troubles seem to find each chink. But try to touch that smooth shield and you will see it crumble in your hands. As the dust dissipates, you find she is gone.” PoetryPoemsLiterary FictionWildShort StoriesHorsesAdult FictionFather Daughter RelationshipsMustangs Book:Wild Horses Don't Stop at Whoa: Poems and Stories Source: Wild Horses Don't Stop at Whoa: Poems and Stories