The bitter smell of dry tarmac and a rainbow shimmering in the spray from a sprinkler reminds me of her. Canvas clad deckchairs spring memories of hot days and cold drinks, sprawling in the blaze. The Sun bronzed us as I waited for something to happen. It never did. Now I'm left with echos of a girl who's features are etched on some distant part of my mind. And, as I can never lose them, I cannot encourage them furthur. Look but don't touch. One day I might find her but until then, recollections are all that I'll have left of my summer of love.