There is nothing to declare

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

He plays in the street, skirting the craters left by the ruinous bombs,

his red shirt flashing in and out of view as he laughs and plays with all the innocence that a child should have.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

The boy laughs and spends his first kiss on a golden-haired sweetheart at the fair

She promises to love him forever

The romance doesn’t last the summer.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

His mother gently smooths down the shirt collar and pulls out her handkerchief as her baby boy makes his way to the front of the Church where his future-wife is waiting.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

A tear slides down his cheek at the sound of a baby crying and he wonders how he could love something so small with so much of him;

and then he does it again, four times.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

The father waves his boys off to school and tells his girls it won’t be long before they get to go too,

and then wonders where the time has gone.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

His arms is clasped firmly around his baby girl’s as she walks down the aisle,  the last of his four children that he had to let go; the tears fall thickly and fast that day.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

He laughs in delight as his grandson reaches up his little chubby hand and grabs a fistful of his silvery hair, his face may have aged but those blue eyes had never shone so brightly.

 

There is nothing to declare here,

 

Just a very old man with a very old woman with four beautiful children and eight bouncing grandchildren.

 

And as he looks around and remembers all that he has done, a tear comes to those old, weary eyes and the youngest granddaughter asks why he is sad and he smiles softly and says:

 

‘There is nothing to declare, here, my love. I am just waiting now. But I was once young, oh,’ he murmured and turned his face to the heavens, ‘I was once unbelievably young.’