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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 ...

Weak

Tears pushing through..
But taken in.
Senses not making through..
But blended in.
Vision getting oblique..
You think you can’t do as you seek.
Breathless..
Staring restless.
Startled by the dungeon getting darker..
Pouring all night long..
Staying awake by the dripping drops.
This shouldn’t have happened..
Instead that should have happened.
Voice dampens..
Moist feets tremble.
Walking staggered..
Dragging yourself all scattered.
A sudden catch of a glimpse..
Running closer on a whim.
There’s someone you can hold on to…
There’s someone who has come for you..
Wait … that’s just you…
Looking right back at you..

Getting weak.

Standing right there meek.

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