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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 ...

Into The Woods

Naked & Puffy ..
Wandering in the woods.
Stuffed with grass..
Troublesome and crude.
Knocked out by the breeze..
As The wind whistled and teased.
Slapped by the branches..
For my interlude.
Trapped in the ignorance of elude.
The night smoke slicing through my eyes..
As moon lighted up the skies.
A quaint wanderer invading peace..
Tracing footsteps of animals walking at ease.
A whimsical tune of darkness persists.
While I caught the whiff of wet earth..
Filling up an addiction unworthy to resist.
I ran to take a dive deeper in the brook..
Following the psychedelic crystal ripple.
Only to find what all I felt lied in a book..
And me very much inside ..
This box full of people.

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