The garden was awash with golden colour as the soft golden rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, the sun steadily falling to greet the horizon once again. Although the breeze was a gentle one it still made the great copper leaves of the sculptured trees clatter against one another. The wind also carried another sound, one softer and gentler, almost like honey to the ears. It was this sound that the young woman followed, winding her way through the shimmering trees, touching each one in turn marvelling at their warmth.

She glided past one large trunk, her luscious red hair trailing behind her, to find the source of the sound. Sitting cross legged at the base of the tree sat a man with stunning features, strumming gently away on a guitar. His eyes were closed, face turned towards the falling sun.

Opening one eye followed by the other he glanced towards her, ‘you should not be here’, he said ceasing playing.

‘Why ever not?’ retorted the woman, the smile that graced her face turning to a scowl.

‘You put the architects and artists who created this garden to shame. Nothing created by human hands could possibly match, let alone surpass your beauty,’ he gave her a lovingly smile and continued to play.