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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 Pencilbox

There was a time..
When all I could wish for was a Pencilbox..
A shiny one..
With buttons..
To press and impress..
Swirling like the dress.
Dreaming night and day..
Where every second the thought would stay.
How I could land into this box full of play.
I ended up never owning one..
But suddenly that wish..
Seems to be now an innocent display..
Where wanting wasn’t owning per say.
And now even when it’s over and beyond the Pencilbox..
All that’s left over..
Is why can’t I have the things..
That I had back in the day..

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