I got used to my Arthritis...To my dentures I'm resigned
I can manage my Bifocals ...But dear 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 some food away? Or have I come to take something out?

And there's a time when it is dark, I stop and hold my head
I don't know if I'm retiring ...Or am I getting out of bed?

So, If it is my turn to write to you, there's no need 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, so must say "good-bye dear"