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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 ...

Owe

What do I owe the stars..                           
Shining brightly tonight,
Until tomorrow as they go out of sight.
What do I owe the moon..
That kissed me too soon,
Not knowing the fact,
that I wouldn’t be around until noon.
What do I owe the way..
That didn’t ever delay,
It’s course of dismay.
What do I owe the lie..
That gave out a sigh,
But it couldn’t resist why.
What do I owe the dark..
That made me loose,
Every path I tried to choose.
What I do owe..
From whatever I know,
Is that it’s all going to go..
Leaving the days to be sore,
And the nights shut behind the door,
Tripping on the floor..
Looking out for me,
As I cease to be around anymore.

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