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 my, 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 refrigerator 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 got out of bed.


So, if it's my turn to write you, there's no need of 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.
Now it's nearly mail time, I must say, Goodby, My Dear.


Here I stand at the mailbox, with face so very red.
Instead of mailing you my letter, I have opened it instead.


Author Unknown




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I wish for you the pleasures of being a Senior Citizen











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Just a part of
God's Beauty


rose




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