My Poet Friend
A
Anil Kumar Panda
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He does not care to wash his face
And his hair is a nest of the sparrow
He eats or remain hungry does not matter
He smiles even when in deep sorrow
He does not sleep or remain awake
He does not care for today or tomorrow
He combs his long beards once in a day
If he does not have money he does not borrow
That was how my poet friend lived and died
No one came to his grave and no one felt sad
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