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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 ...

Her Red Nose

Tears had worn her out..
Will she eat I doubt.
Broken and illusive.
Divergent and delusive.
As she lay her head..
I could hear her breathe..
Ceasing my consciousness..
Leaping into her tired eyes..
Those eyes which said everything..
Even though nothing..
Words still forever..
Why isn’t she asking me to stay..
Forgetting sometimes she..
Puts up a smile..
My heart melts..
Haven’t felt nothing like this..
Just can’t keep sitting here..
As I get up to go…
Kissed her forehead up close..
While all I could remember was her red nose..

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