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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 ...

Invisible

Do you see me?
I walk past..
Followed by my cast.
Found myself locked up.
Do you hear me ?
Listen to the silence..
Beating up your conscience.
Drops out a sigh..
Tipping over a lie.
Why deny?
Do you seek me ?
A myth..
Covered in a muddy sheath.
Luring need.
To get a warm feed.
Did I dissolve..
Or cold as an Ice.
Did I evolve..
Or rolled like a dice.
Am I indifferent ?
Or Incoherent?
Too close to the door..
To miss the knock.
Too far from the shore..
To miss the rock.
Do you think ?
Constantly at every blink..
Across roads I seek many strangers..
Across words eyes seem humble.
Faces open up..
With hidden smiles.
Gullible wisdom..
Trapped in freedom.
The only way out..
Be Invisible.

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