A LITTLE  

 MIXED UP





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 my head.

I've got used to my arthritis,
to my dentures I'm resigned.
I can manage my bifocals,
But, Oh 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 I've just come down from there.

And before the refridge, 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 you getting sore,
I may think that I have written
and don't want to be a bore.

So remember, I do love you,
And wish that you were near
But it's nearly mail time,
So must say, "Goodbye Dear"
Love, Me
P.S. Here I stand beside the mailbox
With face so very red,
Instead of mailing you my letter,
I've opened it instead ! ! !
Author Unknown

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