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On a Sunday Morning in London

By: Mahima Kaur

About The Poem

On one of the many early morning walks across the central bridges of the City of London, I was captured by the shades that the city managed to capture, of dawn and of life.

In the poem On a Sunday Morning in London lies the heartbeat of the city and its many delicate threads that it unravels every day.

*I reside in the City of London, between the Tower Bridge and the London Bridge and my official postcode borough is the City of London, an option not listed above. Hence, I am selecting Tower Hamlets as the borough closest to my home.



The Poem

In the heart of the City
on a summer Sunday morning
flocks of gulls from the
white waters of Brighton
throng the desolate streets, hours
before the tramping crowds
bustle around the Thames, baying
out to one another from
miles away, picking and clicking
on the bits of last night’s sandwich
and the crumpled can that guarded
one last sip of cider;

flying low over the
city’s walls, reminiscing about the history
and the long-forgotten wars
tasting the soft union-
of the history and its progeny

toppled by their reflection
on Gherkin’s winding
like last week’s tumble
across the pronged Shard,

merrily perched on the bridge
across the Tower,
a solemn boat and rows of mallard-
their only auroral companions,

flying past the cordon of trees
over Temple’s jogging lanes
hopping across viaducts and uneasy cranes
peeping into the eyes of the
driver of bus no 15,

Off towards the Eye and the Bell,
to the center of the
square that yelped with vestiges
of last week’s protests, till they
hear kree-ars from their mates
back at Billingsgate,

and they head back over
and above the swarming
folks that crowd the
cobblestones of the city, jostling
and hurrying through
Newgate St, which just a
while ago was webbed with them
feet, crowding noisily on
the banks of the river,
towards the thoroughfare of London Bridge-
that bids its farewell to
the colony of its confidantes,
till another Sunday morning
and another London bound train.

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