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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 ...

Smell Of You

Fresh drops of dew..

Flipping pages of a book brand new.

Breathing in smoke from someone in the walkway..

Catching the train while drenched in rain.

Puffing the wet that instant.

Lying on the grass basking winter sun..

Saving all the fun for later.

Innocent flatter..

Unknown chatter.

Trying to hear a voice which just echoes..

Fresh coat of paint..

Not trying to be a saint.

A faint laughter..

A song getting softer.

Fading dusk..

Everlasting thirst.

Water trickling down the brook..

Flowers free falling from the trees you shook.

Snowflake crumples..

Mud base tumbles.

Tear drops on the paper..

The night stars blurry like the vapor.

Breathless Dawn..

The smiling yawn.

Slept the most..

While dreaming that smell of you.

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