| Getting Old Author Unknown |
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| 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 got used to my arthritus, to my dentures I'm resigned I can manage 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 away the food Or have I come to take it out And there are times when it is dark 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 for getting sore I may think 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 So I must say good-bye my dear There I stand at the mail box With face so very red Instead of mailing you my letter I have opened it instead |
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