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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 ...

Indifferent

Someday you tell me your story..
Someday I will be all ears.
Someday you will hold me not to leave..
Someday I will hold my tears.
Somedays you will sing a song..
Somedays I will be wrong.
Somedays you push me firm..
Somedays I affirm.
Someway you broke my heart..
Someway I kept playing my part.
Someway you chose to depart..
Someway I waited before falling apart.
Sometimes you were there..
Sometimes I wasn’t.
Sometimes it rained..
Sometimes pleasant.
Sometime you look into my eyes..
Sometime I chose to be hidden.
Sometime you walked away..
Sometime I became forbidden.
Sometimes we were coherent..
But in Someway Indifferent.

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