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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 ...

Midnight Door

Someone is out there …
Did someone caught me staring.
Something is moving..
I could feel my trace sweating.
Everytime I looked at the door..
While sometime it looked back at me.
Peeping through the hole..
Are grouching voices.
Hunting as they seek..
Prey isn’t left out crying.
He appeared right beside..
Shaking as he lied.
The floor was fuming hot..
Wish I could borrow a simple cot.
The torn blanket..
I shared.
Grabbing it…
As the corners got spared.
Took out a bread..
Handed that over instead.
Does anyone come after?
Gobbling up the bread ..
Got out a burp.
Taking out a rusted knife..
Slipped it over.
If the door open run this closer.
But now he hasn’t spoken..
He is stiffer than usual.
Sat there weeping..
Light beaming through the midnight door.

* To the life that dwells on the streets and to the hearts that don’t give up that things will get better.

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