"O sweetheart,"
where words can provoke a smile on her face,
her resistance forces us to dance an earthy pace.

And I wish I could stop these feelings myself,
but only she, sweet crusade of love:
can stack my love on a shelf.

And I wish I could make my feelings halt,
but only the temptress of forbidden fruit,
can bring me to face all those of my fault.

And when her eyes lament with love,
I am forever a lovesick goner.

Albeit I was never a man,
to be such a lovesick fawner.

For this thing called "love,"
as it was never in my theatrical play.

For the world of fictional books,
cleared away all my dismay.

But many a times love comes what may,
and makes us fall, oblivious to what we pray.

So due to circumstances, here I stand,
behind her leadership, as she plays her band.

Floundering gravely while she ignores my commands,
smiling prepensely while I meet all her demands.

And the sad thing is for her, anything I would do,
but for her lover, for me, a glance she would not even sue.