Confusing Poem by Ima Ryma

For decades this house is my home,
Though now I live in it alone.
Sometimes about my house I'll roam,
Unrecognizing of my own.
My children are concerned, I know.
I feel it when they visit me.
I hear them whispering I should go
To somewhere where more safe I'll be.
I guess it's part of getting old,
One's faculties can slip away,
No matter how I try to hold
Onto the me of yesterday.

I'm losing touch with what I had.
Losing myself does make me sad.