Derrick Hubert Schnabel
Comments about Derrick Hubert Schnabel
i have become a thief of the night, stealing precious hours;
that hated word, metastasis, which makes soon become now,
so easy to hate when i need mostly to love somehow.
do not mourn my passing or miss the friendship that is ours,
grass is still green though we stand in a desert bleak and bare.
around me ghosts listen, my words glint only as fool’s gold;