The world was theirs.
At least this extraordinary part of it. Surrounded by lush, aged trees there was a mansion. With grand stairs and architecture that made the passerby stop and wonder at its history. Perfectly trimmed bushes squared off and sheared to perfection. Ivy crawled up the house, around large windows and to the tip top of the roof as if grown as part of the vision. Just inside the door you could hear faint laughter drifting down from the double staircase. Upstairs and behind white french doors, bridesmaids gathered, the reflection of floral robes everywhere you turned. In between legs and on top of antique chairs there were two pugs pleading for attention with their warm brown eyes. They got it. Across the hall and down the wood floors the groomsmen gathered. Leather couch and a large wallpaper mural behind them. And so, the house was beginning to move with life.
Down the path there was an overhang brimming with ivy and sweeping around large columns. The place he would see her for the first time. His bride. His wife. As final details were being gathered, they cherished time alone. Time to absorb the beauty around them, the significance of what was about to happen. Time to share. To savor. Time to sweetly sway and softly whisper love to one another.