A Little Mixed Up
Going through some papers from my grandma’s house and found this poem my grandpa had sent my dad. Not sure if he wrote it or if he just sent it, but I thought it was cute and wanted to share it:
A Little Mixed Up
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 foot of stair.
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 the food away?
Or have I come to take some out?
And there’s times when it’s dark out,
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 you,
There’s no need of getting sore.
I may think that I’ve written,
And don’t want to be a bore.
So remember that I do miss 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!
Though I’m getting more forgetful;
And more mixed up in the head.
For sometimes I can’t remember,
When I stand at foot of stair.
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 the food away?
Or have I come to take some out?
And there’s times when it’s dark out,
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 you,
There’s no need of getting sore.
I may think that I’ve written,
And don’t want to be a bore.
So remember that I do miss 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!
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