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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 ...

Tremble

I can see tears ..
But can do nothing.
I can see worries..
But can do nothing.
I can see fear of loss..
I can see smear of moss.
I can see rust..
Accumulated dust.
Giving up trust.
Sinking down to adjust.
But can do nothing.
I have been told to go on..
As no one waits alone.
I can see promises fall apart..
I can see kisses seeping through.
I can see love empty as ever..

I can see lies binding them over.
I can see tries that never got started..
I can see smiles that departed.
Anger has a new meaning.
Ego is self demeaning.
Pride is of nuisance.
It’s the ride of penance.
I can hear the grumble..
The inner mumble.
The gibberish fumble of adulthood.
That ..
It never pays back to be humble.
So cease the fake assemble.
And ease the tremble within.

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