I NEVER DREAM OF YOU

It sure has been a long time, sir, now closer than once before,

I am older than you now; you were thirty-seven as I was once seven,

Always thinking of you, but why I never dream of you is not known.

Dreams fill my head for a lifetime, as I can only make them up in the light,

I wish there were nightly dreams of you, father; nothing comes to my mind.

I never dream of you; sleep does not let me ever see your face again.

Because you went away that day, your face fades, and that is hurting my everyday.

What blocks you from my mind? Does death take too much away?

I never dream of you, but the memories will live until eternity.

                    Keith Garrett

     GRANDCHILD

A dream, a mystery, for me has not been seen,

A child just born to this world, I have learned.

A descendant, a great-grandchild of my Father, mother,

A young child so new, I heard you’re a little boy, I heard.

Not your name can I say, I don’t know you, no name given to me,

A grandchild, not for me to see, a daughter so bitter, sorry.

I say to you, Grandchild, I am Grandfather with a name,

One day, you will understand that anger and a grudge will haunt your land.

                                 Keith Garrett

           A WAND OF MAGIC

In hand, a wand would make me a magic man,

Not even a word, and crime would disappear.

I could stop time, rid the world of trash or pollution,

Take away the sick waters of rivers and oceans.

Murder on our land would be stopped with a hand,

The ill would be no more, cancer but a memory.

I could run fast or jump high,

A tear would be one less for all of mankind.

The cruel slaughter of creatures in the world,

With a wave from my hand, this would end.

A wand of magic need not be that of evil,

For love and good, the hand that holds this wand.

A wand of magic is not to be real,

We can wish, hope, and pray that it all goes away.

               Keith Garrett                                                     

                         SUMMERTIME IN YORBA LINDA

Back in the seventies, summertime, and what’s on your mind,

If you lived in Yorba, then you were very fortunate, as were we.

A time of youth and a time for teenagers, a last day for school,

 Whatever age,  the greatest time of the school year, remember?

Wake to a day of planned or unplanned fun,  until your day is done,

I remember a bus ride to the beach with friends from some time ago.

Music in the sand, rock n’ roll of the day makes everything just great,

Do you ever think about those days of skating at the roller rink? 

Who remembers Pinball Wizard,  so many machines to choose from,

I walked all over Yorba; the streets were so different back then.

I did walk them again,  never the same, you can’t go back again,

Winchell’s Donuts, where we hung out after school, and Thrifty Ice Cream.

A cold Coke from seven eleven, Mad Magazines read on my porch,

Do you remember your summers in Yorba Linda?  Tell me your story.

Keith Garrett

In the dark of night, this big house sits alone,

Rain is pouring down, thunder and lightning around.

Tree branches blowing in the wind,  scratching on windows,

 What watches from this house,  is someone beyond these walls?

No lights are ever on,  just the moon’s glow that comes from above,

Could there be a fireplace of warmth that lights up an old house?

House all alone, without a phone, does someone there roam?

What is the story of such a house that’s all alone?

Keith Garrett

          BEFORE AND AFTER

There was a time when I was not here,

No thoughts, no name, or Identity were mine.

I had no pain or sorrow, not a thing for me to know,

Where was I before I became me, somewhere waiting?

A time will come when I am no longer here, will I have thoughts?

A name remembered, my Identity will not be this body or mind.

Again, there will be no pain or sorrow, I will be somewhere else,

Before and after, heaven-bound, where was I before my first sound?

        Keith Garrett

           ALL IN A DREAM

They call me old Dan Tucker, jack of all trades,

There’s a lot of love for the common people; we are alive.

I didn’t see the light of day for a while as I was shackled and drawn,

This depression was getting to me as each day was a lonesome day.

Life itself is a blessing, but I need something to lift me up,

My family is missing, and my hometown was burned to the ground.

I told my wife just recently, O’ Mary don’t you weep,

We shall overcome, we’ll find our paradise.

With a wizard’s magic, we left this horrible Kingdom of days,

We wouldn’t be the last to die as we were sent through time into the future.

We found our lucky town, now my Oklahoma home,

I’m going down to a place called the Pony Boy that’s open all night.

It’ll be a long walk home, but I’m on fire with energy,

With this little light of mine, I walked in the dark.

I went to places to drink, one called I’m a rocker,

Jacob’s ladder and ramrod.

I met someone who said she was the queen of the supermarket,

Strange as It was all in a dream.

                       Keith Garrett

              MAN ON A CORNER

Watching the sun go down, his stare seemed beyond the sky,

A child so young, from this corner, he saw them light up the night,

Run with your friends as the sun rises in the early morning light.

I have seen a man on a corner since my days of chasing butterflies,

Where is it that he goes, what thoughts clutter his mind on many days?

He begins back in time when he too watched a man on a corner,

Playing many childish games, we ran until the sun set in the sky,

Today, as the children play, it is I who becomes a man on a corner.

       Keith Garrett

                            WHITE  NOISE

She passed away, my wife from yesterday,

Where did she go? I’m sure heaven I know.

Is there a place in between?  a place never seen,

As if awakened from a dream,  I hear her from before.

Body and soul, energy and personality, we disappear,

Listen closely as the white noise enters your rested mind.

 A contact is a possibility, desperate to connect once again,

Somewhere out there, a piece of her survives, listening to white noise.

Keith Garrett

             JUDGMENT HAS A FACE

From behind a door, walking down a street, who are they?

They wander around, they look without a friendly sound.

With paper and pen, not a friend as they may smile but pretend,

Watched you are as you walk, speak, examined over a way you dress.

Judge me with your thoughts, but what is there to see in you?

I am judged by those whom I never see again, strangers, and some family.

Judgment has a face, not the same as it changes from day to day,

We are judged by the rotation of our world, traveling with the wind.

                                            Keith Garrett