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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 ...

Never

Had the wind been so quiet.
Never..
Had the sigh keen on being polite.
Never..
Had the night smelled the sleepless smoke..
Never..
Had the dawn painted a different stroke.
Never ..
did it felt like the clutches were loosening.
Never..
did it felt like the waves touch can go deafening.
But now till the end..
Never.
will those feet long for wet sand.
Never..
will those imprinted steps be followed to be found.
And never..
will those carved out promises be bound.
Cause never..
did they ever require a sanctuary of words.
Never..
did they free themselves to voice the voids.
That everytime plead..
But never did impede.
What’s wonderful indeed..
That nothing did exceed.
And nothing will ever repeat once more.

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