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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 ...

No I Cannot

No I cannot talk..
Coz words don’t mean.
No will not walk..
Over the miles spread across.
No I cannot rot..
Coz the smell is hard to get over.
No will not drink..
As it is rough to be sober.
No I cannot judge..
The reflections blurred out.
Unable to breathe..
As affection carves out.
Will not cease..
To venture the unknown way..
As rules are broken halfway.
No I cannot close..
Though everything I chose..
Is byfar a fool’s disclose.
No will not hold..
As the grip sweats out getting slippery.
Death comes unpleasant..
A deserted sheath of misery.
No I cannot restrict hypocrisy..
Nor can dictate prophecy.
No will not let go..
But sooner will be the one let go.

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