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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 ...

Cause

Not lies..
Not you..
Nor me..
Not what you see..
Is true.
Not cries..
No ties..
Not embedded in hypocrisy..
That you had always knew.
No soul..
Nor role..
Not preceded by supremacy..
That barged in and drew..
The ages of new.
No cure..
Nor pure..
Not the lying undertone..
None but few end up alone..
Not sanity..
Nor perplexity..
Not humanity..
Nor clarity..
But a hollow monarchy subdued.
No reason..
Nor treason..
Nor partition..
But a revolution withdrew.
No epilogue..
Nor dialogue..
No preference..
Just silence..
To the lessons..
Did get a chance
To be heard..
As Cause stands speechless without clue.

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