Thoughts of a prisoner

THOUGHTS OF A PRISONER by Kimya Humphrey, Sr. - Will anyone cry...will I be missed... will I remain in peoples‘ thoughts long after I'm gone? There's so much traffic at the cross roads in my mind, where thoughts that are too late scream, "Oh now I see...now I know how to live my life." Unfortunately, no one really listens to those thoughts because they hold no sound of importance. Like the letter I mailed to my family long ago, and every night since... still no answer. Each day I feel myself fade further and further from their mind causing me to arrive at this very moment where I now hang clinging to the finger tips of their memory, slipping. So badly I wish to see them again. Everyone I know, even those who care not of me would all be welcomed into my embrace. Instead, another birthday came and gone without even a card, still I celebrated by remembering the ones before, hoping someone would come, but only my own thoughts attended. In the mirror I see the effects of decades gone by. The white in my beard reminds me of snow topped mountains after a hard winter. It's getting late...not late into the night, but late in life. I feel its cold settling in my bones, and my body sounds like an old floor that squeaks. Alone, I sit here each day holding onto my past, afraid to let go because the future may not include me. Each day I sit here with my thoughts...growing old. Mr.‘Julius "Kimya" Humphrey, Sr. P378l2/5~N—2OL S.Q.S.P. San Quentin, CA 94964