Evening falls between the trees
The drumming for Ghana fills the leaves
The wicket falls
High fives all round
Conkers shining in their nests
Mr Softee pulls away
She makes love to her mobile
So happy he’s called
Here a plane tree
Higher than a warehouse
Thicker than a rubbish bin
Stronger than a promise
Older than a Town hall
Evening falls between the trees
The drumming for Ghana fills the leaves