Light flickers upon the tank;
It explodes, vision is sank
Below the surface glass.
A beauty figure, of rank—
Wonderful woman, I think;
Here is life's utmost lass.
No, it's a crystal drink,
In joy of life it basks:
Here is the end of fast.
Wait, but it's fate in mask.
I see the sand land, lack;
Here is Grave's hour-glass.
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Comments about this poem (Here Is by Edwin Cordero )
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