Just a line to say I'm living
That I'm not among the dead
Though I'm getting more forgetful
And all mixed up in my head.
I got used to my Arthritis
To my dentures I'm resigned
I can manage my Bifocals
But dear God I miss my mind.
For sometimes I can't remember
When I stand at the foot of the stairs
If I must go up for something
Or have I just come down from there?
And before the fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt
Have I just put some food away?
Or have I come to take something out?
And there's a time, when it is dark
I stop and hold my head
I don't know if I'm retiring
Or am I getting out of bed?
So, If it is my turn to write to you
There's no need getting sore
I may think that I have written
And don't want to be a bore
So remember that I love you
And wish that you were near
But now it's nearly mail time,
So must say "good-bye dear"
Here I stand before the mail box
With a face so very red
Instead of mailing you my letter
I went and opened it instead.
