Just a line to say that I am living, that I`m not among the dead; though I`m getting more forgetful and mixed up in my head. I got wed to my arthritis to my dentures I`m resigned; I can manage with 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 just come to take some out? And there is time 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 is 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; but now it`s nearly mail time, must say goodbye, my dear. Here I stand beside the mailbox with a face so very red; instead of mailing your letter I have opened it instead!
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