I walked I walked what wealth it brought,
To me it was journey that I thought.
One day including my schedule I wonder,
To the shelf of the books which glittered.
I brought books and started to search,
What I was but in me it was merged.
In it there where my writings became old,
Reading them I got some comfort of bold.
The poems written by me were nearly eleven,
Reading them I got back my passed heaven.
BY- YASHRAJ BIRARI
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