At A Loss, Perhaps Poem by Sailing to windward

The long green grass will still bow to the afternoon breeze,
but perhaps now with less fragile grace.
And the sun will be gold as it lifts above Herm,
but perhaps with less early warmth.
And gulls will still wheel and cry in the flag flapping breeze,
but perhaps they won’t need to carry your name, any more.
And perhaps I’ll still smell summer in those just picked berries,
but surely they’ll never taste as sweet
And perhaps,
just perhaps,
I could not be more certain, that I loved you,
and that we always will.

For M&C and their beautiful JP