Gift Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

She is real gift
I could not decide or shift
It was not strange
But easy to manage

at makes me to think?
I stand firm and do not sink
She is intelligent and sharp
I take no chance to harp

It s not continent
Ore religion at present
No color has struck
But I honestly speak

I never felt
Or smelt
She is unknown
But gift looks my own

She shall remain in memory
And leave me with no worry
I am gifted with an occasion
To build more and permanent relation