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Old Books
Look back
The old rack
May have in its nooks
Dusty books
That was for you made
But you never read
Like you never noticed eyes
With loving look
Never heard sighs
Things you mistook
And lost for good
Like the unread book!
There maybe something
For long waiting
Unknown to you
Silent but precious
Like dropping dew
Life’s must
Withering away in dust!
poem
by
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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