Just a line to say I'm living, 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 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 food away, or have I come to take some out.
And there's times when it is dark 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.
So remember that I love you, and wish that you were near.
Now it's nearly mail time so must say goodbye dear.
Here I stand beside the mail box, with a face so very red,
instead of mailing you my letter, I had opened it instead.
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