A Little Mixed Up

When I was in st. john's I rented a basemnet of the house belong to a very kind old couple, Joyce and Gordon. They are around 83 years old and we are still in touch.
I found this poet on Joyce's fridge that her sister sent to her.

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

For sometimes I can't remember
when I stand at the foot of the strairs
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 food away?
Or have I came to take it out

And there are times when it is dark out
with my hairnet on my head
I don't know if I'm retiring
or just getting out of bed

So, if it is my turn to write to you
And there's no need in getting sore
I may think that I have written
And don't want to be a bore

So, remember I do love you
And I wish that you were here
And now it is nearly mail time
so I must say "Good-bye, dear"

There I stood beside the mailbox
with face so very red
instead of mailing your letter
I had opened it instead