Dear Mrs though we've never met I know very much about youI know that you've got hair that shines like the morning sunYou've got eyes that hold the blueness of the skyAnd of the deepest sea on a clear day and a smile that has a sparkle of a diamondI know that because I've heard him say those things about youThese're the thoughts and the words of a manWho spent many heart breaking years behind prison wallsThe father of your children the man who worshipped the very ground that you walk onHe had a picture of you Mrs it was old and faded and tornBut you could tell at a glance that he never exaggerated in his thoughts and visionsHe never left his cell without first checking to see if he had your picture with himHe was a young man when he first came to prisonAnd he talked a great deal about you but as the years passed he talked less and lessAnd during his last year here I don't believe he ever said a word to anybodyHe had the appearance of a man much older than he really wasHe walked with his head down and his shoulders saggin'And the walk itself seemed to take a great deal of effortHe never received a letter or had a visitor while he was here in prisonBut never did he stop looking and waitin'Every day at mail call you could see him standing close to his barsWith the look of a child awaiting a rewardEven after the mailman had passed his cell his pleading eyes would follow beggin'As always he'd feel of his shirt pocket and then just stand thereStaring at the emptiness and as always I couldSomehow feel the lump in his throatAnd the burning in his eyes you know Mrs like just before you start to cryWell I thought you might like to know that they buried his body todayJust outside the prison wallsThey buried him there because nobody cared enough to claim his bodyYou know there was even a couple of old convicts there that actually criedNo not because they cared for him but for what he died from they cared forLoneliness every prisoner knows loneliness but some know it more than othersThe man that they buried today had died many timesEvery day he waited hopin' and prayin' for a letter or a cardOr just a note or anything to let him know that somewhere out thereSomebody cared for himThat assurance never came and today he died MrsHe died from loneliness starved for love a love that nobody ever wantedYou see no man woman or child is immune to the need of love or to be lovedNo matter how terrible his crime might have beenThe death he died from today was more inhumanBut his suffering is over now and he's resting in a pauper's grave in a prison suitAnd in his pocket is an old torn and faded picture of yes of you Mrs
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