No more beautiful city site awaits your need for resurrection -- the resurrection of old love into new, perhaps -- than this flawless and tiny park, awash in history. Here the Colee family was massacred (no need to bring this up) on January 6, 1836, unleashing the Second Seminole Indian War. The Seminoles and the U.S. government never did make up, perhaps because they didn't sit down together at this spot, hold hands, and study the water. But you can. The park is a circle of green pressed to the river, commanded by two majestic trees at its center: a banyan and a live oak -- two sturdy trees symbolizing your new commitment. No more than 50 yards in diameter, the circle is ringed on its outer edge by palms and gumbo-limbos. Beyond that lush, city-kept flora stands a neighborhood of such quiet opulence that the sense of well-being is perfect for your voicing of long-term plans. The houses of the wealthy -- manicured and made up like castles -- appear across the water as well, an inspiration for where you will spend your years together. At Colee Hammock you can find free parking, few people, thoughtfully placed benches affording privacy, the soothing movement of water, and apparent order in all things. But can you find the right words? Remember: "Love's not Time's fool," as Shakespeare said.