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/