Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,
And feel once more I do not live in vain,
Although bereft of You.

Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet
Will Make the sunny hours of Spring seem gay,
And I shall find the white May blossoms sweet,
Though You have passed away.

Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,
And crimson roses once again be fair,
And Autumn harvest fields a rich delight,
Although You are not there.

Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain,
To see the passing of the dying year,
And listen to the Christmas songs again,
Although You cannot hear.

But, though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.

Perhaps (“To R. A. L. Died of Wounds in France, December 23rd 1915”) is a poem by Vera Brittain, composed after the death of her fiancé during the First World War. I came across it while reading Singled Out by Virginia Nicholson, a book about the “generation of spinsters” that war left in its wake in Britain. It seemed a fitting poem to mark the occasion of Sandra’s death a year ago today.


  • Thorn

    November 7, 2012 at 10:27 am

    It’s really been a privilege to get to know Sandra through you. I’m so sorry for your loss and so impressed by your clarity and honesty in this year.

  • Martin Wisse

    November 8, 2012 at 2:38 am

    Thank you.

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