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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511540" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The City Of London</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">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 into the City to work and so here is my memory: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">----</div><div style="margin:10px 0">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.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">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, <br>everything beautiful is gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">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. <br>It hangs over London like a veil</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ruth+Walters">Ruth Walters</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511540" data-title="The City Of London de Ruth Walters" data-description="Introduction: 
 
I wrote this in the middle of the night, many years ago.
My mind went back to when I was a little girl 
and my brother and I went to visit my Grandfather. 
We stopped that day to walk through the City, there was a mist that mornin..."></div>
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