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An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Eclipse



Looking through you..
Wasn’t over.
But it got easy..
When you looked over.
Right where you were..
Right where you at.
Hitting all the steps..
Falling flat.
The hands that touched..
Now had scratch marks.
The spark had smudged..
Leaving thoughts dark.
A scintillating ray..
Did fade it’s way.
The voice that calm..
Now fetched an alarm.
The reflection of your soul..
Made a fool.
Your words..
Now obscure.
Dangerously wounded..
Feeling offended.
A mockery alluring..
Self inflicting.
A win of destiny..
Lost fate to irony. 
Shadows turned against..
While truth appears tinted.
Moment flips..
And belief carves an eclipse.

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