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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 ...

The Way You Looked At Me

While nobody could see..
The hue as clear as sea..
Words few but free..
As droplets seek a tree.
The way you looked at me..
Couldn’t help but glee..
An urge to get hold of you and flee.
As a goblet filled with spree.
The way you looked at me..
Splashed water ..
Indifferent laughter..
Jolted out a blurry sigh..
Wet beneath the glasses..
Confronting horizon where one’s ..
Not supposed to fly.
The way you looked at me..
While I forgot stagnant worries..
Jotting down debacle memories..
That painted poignant stories ..
Slowly going out of sight..
Where those eyes ..
The way they closed out on me.

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