A LITTLE MIXED UP
Just a line to say I'm living
That I'm not among the dead,
Tho I'm getting more forgetful
And more mixed-up in my head,
For sometimes I can't remember
When I stand before the stairs,
If I must go up for something
Or if I've just come down from there.
And before the frig, so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt.
Have I just put some food away,
Or have I come to take some out?
With my night cap on my head,
I don't know if I'm retireing,
Or just getting out of bed.
So if it is my turn to write you
There's no need of getting sore
I may think that I have written you
And I don't want to be a bore,
So remember that I love you
And wish that you were here.
And now that it is nearly mail time
I must say "good night, my dear."
P.S. There I stood before the mail box
With my face so very red.
Instead of mailing you my letter
I opened it instead.
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