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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 ...

Nomad

She reads books,

Exchanges looks..

As she enters the land of freedom,
Likes every part of what she has become...
Compares with her past,
And falls in love with the contrast.
Away from the appalling crowd,
Following the direction were clouds take her...


As a Nomad...
She Chases every train,
Sits next to strangers..
Talks like a foreigner,
Her mood resonates to a day dreamer..
Until the journey comes to an end..
After which she is back to pretending..
to be an old dweller..
of the place she once came to visit..
As a traveler...  




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