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,
Oh, but how I miss my mind.
For sometimes I can't remember,
As I stand there at the stairs,
if I must go up for something,
or I just came 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 is my turn to write,
there's no need in getting sore,
I may think that I have written,
and don't want to be a bore.
So remember that I love you,
and I wish you lived near by,
Now it's time that I must mail this,
so I must tell you good bye.
Here I stand beside the mailbox,
with my face so very red,
Instead of mailing you my letter,
I opened it and read instead.
Note: I can't remember who wrote this /S/ Jim