At dusk when the weavers rollicked in the back yard

At dusk when the weavers frolicked in the back yard
and were picking at small crumbs and seeds
some were yellow and others red
and I did imagine
that again as a child
I was playing at the march
 
but the darkness of the night came quickly
and suddenly the back yard was empty
with the fireplace of the neighbour
blowing a cloud of coal smoke into the air.