Little Sore Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Little sore

I was getting desperate
When she tried to state
'I shall be yours forever'
It made me little sore too

If something gos wrong
If life is sold for song
I was getting in with ceaseless thoughts
I closed eyes and sought full calm

You may eb sincere
But powerless against fear
It shall grip you with concern
With full possibility of unfavorable turn

But I am not negative thinker
I very much like her
She has openly favored
I too have willingly offered

She tries to soothe my feelings
She my queen I her being crownless king
You shall remain with poor man?
'Yes, yes' I am your woman