Searching

I have been searching for a sewing machine manuel,two really ,always at my side for many years in my sewing bag .Two weeks ago they disappeared, Iv,e searched, no luck . I was looking among files and books in case they had been gathered up together,but while I was looking for them tonight I stopped to look in a file that contains poems,verse,musings etc,.and found this.

This is a poem dated 1990, written by the lady who kept the village shop,she was quite an old lady then . Shortly after this she went to live in a home , here is her poem .
Dear daughter
Just a line to say I,m living, that I,m not amongst the dead, though I,m getting more forgetful,and mixed up in my head
I,ve got used to my arthritis, to my dentures I,m resigned, I can manage my bi-focals, but,oh I miss my mind
Sometimes I can,t remember when I,m standing by the stairs if I should be going up for something or have I come down from there, and before the fridge so often my mind is filled with doubt, now did I put some food away or did I take it out .
Sometimes when its night time with my nightcap on my head, I don,t know if I,m retiring or just getting out of bed
If it,s not my turn to write dear,I hope you won,t get sore, I think I may have written , I don,t want to be a bore ,remember I do love you , and wished that you lived near but now its time to mail this , and say" goodnight " my dear
At last I stand beside the mail box , my face it sure is red ,instead of mailing this to you I opened it instead.

Mrs Burdett was a very nice friendly lady, a Barbara Cartland sort of person. Plenty of make up,lace and ruffles.

Well, onward with the searching