THE QUANDRY OF GROWING OLD

Just a line to say I'm living
That I'm not among the dead,
Tho' I'm getting more forgetful
And more mixed up in my head.

For sometimes I can't remember, when
I stand at the foot of the stairs,
If I must go up for something,
or if I just came down from there.

And before the refrigerator, so often
My poor mind is filled with doubts;
Have I just put food away,
Or have I come to take some out?

And there are times when it is dark out
With my night cap 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,
There's no need in getting sore;
I may think that I have written
And don't want to be a bore.

So remember, I do love you
And I do wish you were here,
But now it's nearly mail time,
So I must say, "Good bye", my dear.

There I stood 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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