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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 ...

Refuse

Refuse that..
There is a need to miss..
Refusing the urge..
To run behind..
To find a glimpse.
Then turning back..
Never to rewind..
Refuse that
There is a sense of presence..
Stitched in their absence.
To unwrap the cover..
To conclude while sober..
Then fold back..
Never to entwine.
Refuse that..
There is a greed to reach..
Refusing every attempted breach.
To steal the moment..
To feel the torment..
Then trapping it quick..
Never to come back..
But always getting weak..
When there are days..
To minds tweak..
The hearts just speak for themselves

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