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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 ...

Drew

I drew ..
A puppet that could fly.
I drew..
A trumpet that would lie.
I drew..
A horse that will not run.
I drew..
It’s course just or fun.
I drew..
Myself with white long hair.
I drew..
A robber that will not dare.
I drew..
A pauper who refuses to beg.
I drew..
A butterfly without a leg.
I drew..
A sword that feared blood.
I drew..
An angry face..
That would never change it’s pace.
I drew hope..
That will never win.
I drew desire..
That will fight outliers.
I drew a friend..
Sitting beside me watching sunset.
I drew hands..
That never leaves me after dark.
I drew night..
Beaming with stars.
I drew faces..
Smiling at me from far.
But I never drew the frown..
Even when I failed to draw each one their crown.

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