He was in love with her. That was his secret. That was why he could not forgive himself- he never told her.

It was his lack of control of her reponse that crippled him in the end. It left him empty.

She left him standing there at the edge of the road with bitter tears in his eyes. That was how he remembered her.

He had hated himself ever since. Maybe he was too harsh on himself. But that day crushed any faith he had in his future. Maybe that's why he stayed.

It was the way her skirt moved as she stood in the creek and the way the light shone off her hair. That was what he remembered about her.

Six years had passed since that summer.

She had since moved to Manhattan. He stayed in the quiet town. The memories fueled him, the safety. The shadows the willow trees cast on the streets.

But she was returning. Her father was ill. She was leaving her urban life to come home. Home to the town with the shady trees and hazy skies.

He knew she had changed. The city life robbed her of her free spirit. He didn't know how she could be happy in such a cramped places, full of smell and traffic.

But she had kept in contact with him all those years and that was what mattered.

It is officially mid April. What have I to show for it? A desire to sleep and nothing else.