Geoff, it is midsummer now
And your paradise garden
Takes our breath away.
The honeysuckle, orchids,
Geraniums, yellow iris,
Blood red roses and
Apricot foxgloves
You tended
So lovingly
Are all here as they
Would have been
In medieval times when
You say even the monks
Needed the sanctuary
Of flowering meads
And shady orchards
To lift their spirits
And refresh their minds.
And now your twin brother
Is finishing off the commentary
You wrote before
Your heart attack,
Telling us if you
Could choose your piece
Of heaven
It would look
Just like this.