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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 ...

Books

The books I read have taught me 
almost everything that I wanted to know
almost everything that dwells in imaginations
almost everything that rules misdirections
almost everything that infuriates misnomer
almost everything that can be manipulated
almost everything that can be stipulated
almost every world that's not mine
almost every tragedy where I cried
almost every emotion that one goes through
almost every madness that one controls
almost every relationship that becomes lifelong
almost every little thread that make ties go strong
almost every little piece of bread that fills up emptiness
almost every act of truth that couldn't fight death
almost every pact of stealth that couldn't defeat lies
However, there's more to know
the more I read
and every word that I do 
turns me into a different breed
that needs to be at reach for everyone
that feeds to the compelling mass
to narrate a potent story that was told before 
even you and I existed

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