Just a Little Mixed Up

Cathy Price, an attendee of the conference, shared this poem:

Just a line to say I'm living,
That I'm not among the dead,
Though I'm getting more forgetful;
And more mixed up in the head.

For sometimes I can't remember
When I stand at the foot of the stairs
If I must go up for something,
Or I've 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's time when it's dark out,
With my night cap 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 in getting sore,
I may think that I have written,
And don't want to be a bore.

So, remember, I do love you,
And wish that you were here --
But now, it's nearly mail time
So I must say, "Goodbye, Dear."

There I stood beside the mailbox,
With a face so very red,
Instead of mailing you my letter
I had opened it instead!