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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 ...

Disease

I have had enough !
Shall I hold you ?
No thank you.
This is rough..
I need to be tough..
Don’t just think stuff.
Can I try to hold?
Don’t be angry and start to scold.
I have the disease…
Don’t please.
Pain will cease..
Just feel in ease with me.
It’s contagious..
Life is outrageous.
Don’t be silly..
This will kill you.
If it will..
Will you ?
Still not let go..
The hold of me.
Disease gets stronger..
I ain’t getting younger.
I no longer know you..
You can never forget me.
I don’t want to die..
I am not lying.
You don’t have to..
As long as I will be trying.

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