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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 ...

Reason

Think of a way..
This is going to stay.
To endless hypothesis..
Relentlessly pray.
Hold onto the state..
It can always relate.
Trapped fearlessly..
Is fate.
Tricked inadvertently..
But negate.
Sold to the cause..
Ignoring flaws.
Soaking furiously
The patience..
Revolting aimlessly..
Your conscience.
Scattered are the leaves..
This season.
Dripping till it aches.
Mended walls..
That got thicker.
Day dreaming sights..
Tried hideouts cowardly.
Accumulating fights..
Avoiding collision.
As awaken by a desire..
Is a single faith.
That there’s got to be a Reason.

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