Just a line to say I’m living that I’m not among the dead. Though I’m getting more forgetful and so mixed up in the head.
I got used to my arthritis to my dentures I’m resigned I can manage my bifocals. But, Oh God, I miss my mind.
For sometimes I can’t remember when I stand at the foot of the stairs. If I must go up for something or I just came 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 times when it is darkened with my night cap on my head. I don’t know if I’m retiring or just getting out of bed.
The Wee Vine 