We walk in misty rain,
Night is cold.
We hold hands,
As I feel her warmth,
A cold wind blows.
We sit on a stained bridge,
There is silence,
Her words like symbolism,
Drizzle begins,
Life winds around obstacles,
As a stream runs to the sea,
In ten or so years where will we be?
James Fieldhouse
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-moves-like-a-stream/
