At five o'clock in the morning, before the sun shows his
face,
The streets are virtually silent, with plenty of empty
space;
Few people throng the pavements, in the main it is merely
the ones,
Whose shifts either start or finish at an hour which
everyone shuns.
The air has the scented image which it has gained through
the night,
And adds to the feeling of difference that goes with the
early light.
It's a beautiful time in the morning, calm and silent and
still,
Soon to be changed to another which people and traffic will
fill.
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