Its cold but not bad, I said.
Yes, She said, it looks it outside.

The cold was not good, but neither bad.
It was a temperature that I could weather.
The slight breeze licked my ankles
whirling up my two bare legs
up my skirt, shirt
giving me a shiver down my spine
I no longer bothered doing my hair
because the wind very much liked to play with it.
it was a mess.
I was a mess.
I like myself enough, I would tell myself
I pictured myself in the fetal position
with my arms wrapped around my torso
like an Armadillidiidae protecting itself from a curious child.
Only a slight pinch of  two small fingers would crush me
life is fragile
and we are all delicate beings
we are like this wind
Neither good or bad
A temperament I can weather