My father was a window cleaner

He cleaned windows in my home town and the surrounding villages for over forty years

During the war he was stationed in India and when on leave visited the Taj Mahal

The visit changed him as a man

For when he returned from his war

All he could speak about

Was the eternal candle

Which had been lit in the memory of Mumtaz Mahal

By her loving husband

For many years

My father searched for the eternal candle

But he never found it

After his death I arranged to have a candle lit in his memory

And to this day it burns brightly

Beneath the decorated windows

Of his home church