Fresh Air Poem by ANJANDEV ROY

In search of
Fresh air,
The weary traveller was moving
Here and there,
He travelled
Many dazzling
And wonderful places,
But nowhere he found it,
Everywhere the air was
Foul and stale,
Suddenly he met a poor woodcutter
In a lonely place,
The woodcutter heard everything from him
And took the tired wayfarer in his little cottage
Where the traveller got fresh and living air at the end,
Being delighted, the traveller asked the gentle woodcutter,
"How is it possible? "
The innocent woodcutter smiled gently and said,
"It is possible because my soul is always true and fair."