August
24
I’m Getting More Forgetful
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 my head.
Sometimes I cannot remember, when I stand at the foot of the stair;
if I’m going up for something, or I’ve just come down from there.
As I gaze into the fridge so often, my poor mind is filled with doubt,
Have I just come to put the food away or have I come to take it out?
When darkness falls at evening, 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 to you, there’s no need to be sore.
I may think that I’ve written last week and don’t want to be a bore.
Just remember that I love you and wish that you were here;
But now it’s early mail time, I must say goodbye my dear.
As I stand beside the post box wit face so very red,
Insead of posting you my letter, I’ve opened it instead.
Anita Spoon
