That I'm not among the dead,
Though I'm getting more forgetful
And mixed up in the head.
I got used to my arthritis,
To my dentures I'm resigned,
I can manage my bifocals,
But Lord ... how I miss my mind!!!
Sometimes I can't remember
When I stand at the foot of the stairs,
If I must go up for something ...
Or if I've just come down from there.
I stand before the fridge at times,
My poor mind filled with doubt,
Have I come to put food away,
Or come to take some out?
There are times when it is dark out,
And with my nightcap on my head,
I don't know if I'm retiring ...
Or just getting out of bed.
So if it's my turn to write you,
There's no need for getting sore,
I may think that I have written
And don't want to be a bore.
I do know that I miss you
And wish that you were near.
And now it's nearly mail time
So I must say good bye, my dear.
Now I'm standing beside the mail box
With a face so very red,
Instead of mailing you my letter ...
I have opened it instead!!!