It was a sweet midsummer's afternoon in July when Ken and Emily were married. The trees, full with leaves, let tender light glow in their boughs. The sweet breath carried every moment into lungs and passed there to the blood and heart; and when clutched long enough in it's pink care, released through waiting still lips back into the air. A cliche indeed, yet love was about, hiding in yonder bush, neath every leaf, behind each tree. And Dinosaur felt pretty sure he was going to score.