I got used to my arthritis,
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 food away,
or have I come to take some out?

And there are times 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's 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,
so I must say "Good-bye, Dear."

P.S. Here I stand beside the mailbox
with a face so very red-
instead of mailing you my letter,
I have opened it instead!