A Little Mixed Up

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grandmother-smiling

Just a line to say I’m living
That I’m not among the dead
Tho’ I’m getting more forgetful
And I’m mixed up in the head.

It’s my turn to write you
(Or did I write before?)
I think I owe the letter
I’d hate to be a bore.

I’m used to my bifocals
And my dentures fit me fine.
My hearing aid is perfect,
But oh, how I miss my mind.

I stand before the fridge at times
My poor head filled with doubt.
Have I come to put some food away
Or come to take come out?

Sometimes I can’t remember
At the bottom of the stair,
If I must go up for something
Or I’ve just come from there!

There are times when it is dark out,
And with nightcap on my head,
I ask, “Am I retiring,”
Or just getting up from bed?”

So remember that I love you
And wish that you were here,
But now it’s nearly mail time,
I must say, “Goodbye, my dear.”

I’m standing by the mailbox
With a face so very red,
I didn’t mail your letter,
I’ve opened it instead!

Found in my Grandmother’s Bible…
Amy Rupert

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