By Caitlin, who knew someone with PH
I bet he’s fixing heaven’s gates
And tightening up the stars
Painting the doors and windows
Just like he did at ours
He’ll be changing the battery in the moon
Before fluffing up the clouds
Making tea for all the angels
And one for himself, if time allows
He’ll be polishing wings and halos
Checking candlesticks are all in line
Then hoovering the stairs to heaven
And fixing up a welcome sign
If something’s broken, he’ll sort it out
Just like he used to do
So when I hear a creaky floor
I’ll say ‘Dad, that must be you!’
Caitlin wrote this poem after her father died, and read it at his funeral.
