Penniless I am on these streets, dimly lit,
to the cities that stay yea or nay.
Meeting other penniless, downtrodden.
In hope they slumber in faith they pray.
And I see their eyes, eyes that brightly glare when they stare.
Not the poor I talk of,
they have the richness in other ways.
Ah! Did you see that Old Kid?
The way he bounced almost made him fray.
Yes! This is the person, and about such,
Something I were to say.
Do not leave now.
The folds have not been opened.
Or perhaps, we may meet some other day.
– Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)


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