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The fab four...not Scouse superstar serenaders..

Stellar constellations of cricketing fascinations...

Connoisseur christened, humdinger harbingers..
 
Listen…whispers of willow wizardry whistle…glisten..

Skipper sorcery glow…celestial cerebral Martin Crowe..

Appetites whet..forget the quartet..for the fab four is no more..

Game's pantomime dame, Kohli...encores harangued..

Creeping crepuscular flaws…Virat’s ersatz career nadir scores..

Smith's sisyphean shuffles..flummoxed fossicking for form.. 

In mists of time..muffled murmurs of his prime...

Two remain....caressed nurdle nirvanas...nudges finessed...Kane..

Benjamin Button…old school whiffs…lyrical lever lullabies..

Rooted rhapsody riffs..gourmand & glutton..

Wallowing in echoes..aesthetic embers of the past...

Trained elbow craned....poetic flighty feet…

Silkily souffle sashays scream balletic....

Swishes so late, almost tardy...halcyon garlanded greats..

Third man tickles...soft hands court..behind cover cavort..

Wooing nooks...seducing crannies..scoreboard purrs..

Relished textbook looks..cherished record books..embellished..

Joe shuns Icarus...strums eclipsing Sachin's sun..

Kane’s hushed kudos..won’t boast..hums humility…..

Genius garnishing..legends..legacies..

So time “gentlemen” please..

Lachrymose Last Post toast.

Final round for Kane..Joe & Martin Crowe..

Late great host…ruminating perched proud.. 

Hankering..hollering with the crowd..

Illuminating a long white cloud..

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