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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 ...

Little Girl Wants To Play

It’s getting windy..
Like a storm coming.
The burnt leaves start to rustle..
Gathering for the final hustle.
Dirt sprinkles through the air..
Thunder effects flickering on this affair.
Her swing travels high..
Ignoring the flock of birds as they cry.
Tiny drops touching her cheeks..
Looking up that very cloud she seeks.
How will I go?
Her toes goes slow as she speaks.
Finding a pair of eyes..
Running at one breath she flies.
On his arms as she lies.
Let’s go it’s late..
Dusk is turning a darker shade.
But before we fade..
Sit here by my side..
While I scrape you some mud and clay.
As papa’s little girl still wants to play..
And now this storm will not dare to go the wrong way.

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