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Just a line to say we are living
That we’re not among the dead,
Though we’re getting more forgetful
And more mixed up in our head.
Sometimes we can’t remember
At the bottom of the stairs,
If we must go up for something
Or if we’ve just come down from there.
We’re before the fridge so often
And our mind is full of doubt –
Have we just put food away
Or have we come to take it out?
And there are times when it is dark
Our nightcaps on our head,
We don’t know if we’re retiring
Or just getting out of bed!
If it’s our turn to write to you
There’s no need of getting sore,
For we may think that we have written
And we don’t want to be a bore.
Just remember we do love you
We wish that you were here
Now that it’s nearly mail time
We must sign off, my dear.
We’re standing at the mailbox
With a face that’s near beet red
For instead of mailing you our letter
We’ve opened it instead!
