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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 ...

Habit

Sitting back as I layed down my head..
Cried profusely.
As a habit had bred.
Talking with..
Walking towards.
Laughing with..
Lying afterwards.
Gestures..
Expressions..
Frequent captures.
Innocent wait..
With shyness inflate.
Hilarious trait..
While tracing footsteps.
Magnifying dew drops..
As the face ripples.
Anxious encounter..
While lanterns..
Lit up the chapters ahead.
Dialects unheard..
Words refusing indulge.
With an only urge.
A habit too deep..
A habit to keep ..
A habit to forget me..
A habit to infer before you see..
A habit to dream…
While time seems to fly.
The habit has to go..
That habit has to know..
Because habits get addictive.
While you end up being repetitive.
Wiping away the tears as I stood up..
Peeping at the sky that bled.
Across the wide horizon.

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