This was found in the effects of my 96 year old aunt, she passed away in the early 80s. I was just given a package that she left for me by a family member. This was written in the 50s and placed in an envelope inscribed "open after I'm gone"

Just a line to say I'm living
That I'm not amongst the dead
Yet I’m getting quite forgetful
And more mixed up in the head
There are times I can’t remember
Standing at the foot of the stairs
If I must go up for something
Or I’ve just come down from there
With the Frigidaire before me
My poor mind is full of doubt
Have I just put food away, or
Have I come to take some out?
There are times when it’s still dark
When I stand beside my bed,
I can’t tell if I’m retiring
Or getting up instead
If it’s my turn to write you
There’s’ ne need to get upset
When you’re my age things happen
It’s to so easy to forget
But with mail time fast approaching
I will try to make it clear-
In this letter that I’m mailing
That I love you, precious dear
Yet the mailbox stands before me
As my face turns ruby red
For I failed to mail your letter
And, I just opened it instead

Words are wonderful, aren't they? I fall in love with words. Because they express thought. And consciousness. And awareness. --Jim