Introduction: br br I wrote this in the middle of the night, many years ago. br My mind went back to when I was a little girl br and my brother and I went to visit my Grandfather. br We stopped that day to walk through the City. There was a mist that morning and a fine rain, the sort that makes your hair frizz. br The tranquillity of the early morning streets was rudely broken br by people coming to the City to work and so here is my memory: br br - - br br Early morning after a thunderous night br I can breathe easy. br If I'm quiet I may hear the sound of birdsong. br Sometimes there is a mist. br It hangs over London like a veil. br Soon dawn's empty streets br will heave with massing crowds. br but until then all London is at peace. br br The gentle tinkling of milk bottles br breaks the quiet br and the smell of bacon and fried bread br waft through the chill morning air. br Sounds of sirens fill my head and br concrete rises heavenward, filling my eyes, br crushing their foundations through my soul. br A sickness seeps through me, everything beautiful is gone. br br 'Morning paper, read all about it! ' br Girls hurry buy in tight blue jeans, br men in suits, some in Mac's, br high-heeled ladies, clicky, click, clack. br Poor old tramp, fingernails black, br stirs on the floor beside a closed door, br ‘Got the price of a cuppa luv', he calls. br The girl quickens her pace. br A couple kiss in tender bliss br A young man sighs, a baby cries, br an old lady dies on the streets of London. br br Early morning after a thunderous night br you can breathe easy. br You may hear the sound of birdsong br Sometimes there is a mist.