My Grandmother’s Scrapbook

My Grandmother’s Scrapbook is made up of little tidbits she thought were inspiring or funny.  She found them in letters, mail, newspapers and even church bulletins.  I love flipping through the scrapbook just to see the little things that caught her attention.  Here’s one of my favorite poems:

 

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

For sometimes I can’t remember
When I stand at the foot of the stairs
If I must go up for something
Or if I just came down from there.

And before the Fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt
Have I just put some food away
Or have I come to take some out.

And there are times when it’s dark outside
With my night cap on my head
I don’t know if I’m retiring
Or just getting out of bed.

So if it’s my time to write you
There’s no need for getting sore
I may think I’ve already written
And don’t want to be a bore.

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

There I stood beside the mailbox
With my face so very red
Instead of mailing your letter
I opened it instead.

 

She didn’t have an author or title listed for this poem.  I did a little digging online to see if I could find out who wrote it but didn’t have much luck.  Every time I came across it, it was without an author.  There seemed to be a couple different versions of the poem and maybe another stanza or two that mine is missing.  Do you know who wrote it?

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