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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 ...

Realm

From the realms of muse..
Into the arms you choose.
From the freedom set loose..
Into the times that ceased to exist.
From the realms of nowhere..
Into the eyes that stare.
From the charm of false prepare..
Into the outcome of self repair.
From the realms of the unknown..
Into the spirited alone.
From the swarm of anxiety..
Into the abode of a petrifying noise.
The realm is beyond you..
The path exploits new.
To abide is your call..
It gets wider than persuade.

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