GINGERBREAD HOUSE

                        GINGERBREAD HOUSE


  Around it are many lights, on the door a big 
  Wreath hangs,

  Which is the color that lays on the ground,


  Windows framed in cany canes,


  The roof is all of Gingerbread, trimmed edges 
  Of frosting.

  The outside walls are made up of chocolate bars,


  A Gingerbread house, now lets go inside.


  In the oven the scent of cinnamon rolls,


  On the stove, pies of all flavors, delicious they are.


  The ceiling as it is, a giant chocolate chip cookie,


  Take a piece of the floor, made of chocolate smoars.


  This Gingerbread house is a dream of delight,


  It appears once a year, on a Winters night.


                              Keith Garrett

A CHANCE TO CHANGE

                                    A CHANCE TO CHANGE


  An English setting, a time of old, a man with a 
  Heart so cold,

  Snow falling from the sky as the not so fortunate 
  await christmas.

  Friendly he is not, forgotten has he the meaning 
  Of love in his day,

  Alone he sits, alone he values the riches within 
  his pockets.

  To a home this man enters each night and dines 
  Quite silently,

 What he will learn soon is sad but true, precious, 
  Wasted time.

  Visited to him on this Christmas Eve will be 
  ghosts of three,

  The past, present, and future, haunts a man 
  Such as he.

 Through the night travels a burdened soul with a truth,


  Where he has come from to now that which he has 
  Become.

  Sees does this old, bitter, man his yesterday, today,
  And tomorrow,

  A chance to change is a most priceless gift of all, 
  Forgive us all.

  Time wasted but lessons accompanied with tears of 
  Regret,

  A story told about a man who with open eyes was 
  Was blinded.

  Given to him by ghosts of three the gift of a chance to 
  Change,

  Old man from the past, you now walk with a different 
  Heart.

                                        Keith Garrett

A CLOUD CHOSEN

                                        A CLOUD CHOSEN


  I travel along across the sky floating weightless,


  Down below there is you, recognize I do.


  Feel the wind blow through your hair, I am there,


  Call on me if ever you need from me anything.


  I rest on my cloud looking down on where I 
  Once stood,

  In your yard watching the birds fly in the sky.


 There are many clouds throughout time never 
  Ending,

  But it's this cloud, a cloud chosen for myself.


  A place to be alone, a place where dreams are real,


  The sun shines upon me, its warmth I feel, I can see


  Myself smile in the light.


  A friend that's true would do for another anything,


  If ever you need I will jump down off my cloud to be.

                                         Keith Garrett

STORIES ARE TOLD

                               STORIES ARE TOLD


  Traditions of story telling from thousands of years,


  Around campfires and in homes in times of old.


  Thought up from Imaginations or a small tale that 
  Grows,

  Fables told by a Grandfather to a child in countries 
  Of old.

  A bedtime adventure from a book to send you off to 
  Dream,

  Around the world many have listened, stories across 
  the sea.

  Stories are told that touch ones soul," listen child" they 
  Never grow too old,

  Generation to Generation, within cultures of different 
  Beliefs,  A tale that speaks
                                   Keith Garrett

WHAT I SAW IN MY YORBA LINDA HOME

        WHAT I SAW IN MY YORBA LINDA HOME


  Remembering being a boy in our home, a story to tell,


  Between nineteen seventy two and nineteen seventy seven.


  I saw our house as it was being built, met some neighbors 
  that year,

  We  moved in early May, Starting school was hard so late   
  As it was.

  We were having our pool put in that Summer, I remember                        
  The heat,

  Those were the days of Saturday morning cartoons, 
  Worries so few.

  The Buggs bunny roadrunner hour, our new home was  
  So cool.

  The TV guide, late night classic movies, were a Summer    
  Delight.

  Seasons in the sun, Music of the seventies, my friends  
  And All of the fun,

  Sunday morning watching Wonderama, swimming in our  
  Pool.

  Weekends and Summers, nine children on the loose. 


  I remember Mannix, Hawaii five o', the Sunday night 
  Mysteries,

  Reading mad magazines on the porch,  a coke in the       
  Hot sun.

  On the phone with friends, the early seventies were a  
  Great Time.

  Musical sounds that said the Icecream man was coming,
  I Remember.

  Fourth of July, Fireworks that lit up the night, what a 
  Sight Back in time.

  My Yorba Linda home, back in nineteen seventy two, I 
  remember you.
          Keith Garrett

WHAT DOES THE SKY SEE?

                          WHAT DOES THE SKY SEE


  From up so high looking down upon,



  Does the sky see me as I look back.



 On the hills' the wind blows' through the trees, 
  And swims Does the ocean


  Is this what the sky sees If only It had eyes.



  Can It see the birds' fly,



  Or the squirrels' climb the trees In the morning 
  Light.


  What does the sky see,



  Possibly only what your Imagination dreams'.


                         Keith Garrett 

TREASURES OF THE LORD

                          TREASURES OF THE LORD

  Into the darkness I stepped, wandering down a road,

  Left behind the trust and care for those who hurt my 
  Soul.
  Alone I've stood on a hill so high, at the edge of the
  Mountain,
  There was nothing for me to see, blinded by what Is 
  Humanity.
  Is this place I am a creation of my own anger and non 
  believing,
  Does darkness fade as the sun appears again for a 
  Blind man.
  I've opened these eyes and learned to see his 
  Masterpiece,
  The hills that are alive that rest beneath God's wide 
  Open sky.
  The wind that sings as It blows through the ever so 
  High trees,
  Rain that falls below Is a gift to us so that we may 
  Watch life grow.
  From the sea, to all that we need to be, Is for us 
  Because he,
  Only he had a thought, the power to Imagine that 
  Which we see.
  Treasures of the lord were placed down upon from 
  Heaven,
  Only the greed of a man has stolen that which to him 
  Belongs not.
  Every time I open my eyes the treasures of the lord are 
  Seen,
  These are a gift, a reality that even the blind may see.

                                 Keith Garrett

THESE THINGS I DREAM

                         THESE THINGS' I DREAM


  Within myself, thinking of  a place In another reality,




  What lies around me may be a different consciousness.




  This state of mind as I am not awake, floating, floating,




  I see a world like never have I Imagined before, I see.




  Visions' sent to my brain, pictures of stories past or 
  Future,



  These things' I dream, a mystery from an eternity.


                                           Keith Garrett                

PLAYGROUND IN MY MIND

                                  PLAYGROUND

                                    IN MY MIND


  There are times I like to escape from here,


  Away from all this mess handed out from life.


 Through my dreams' and Imagination there's 
  A place to go,

  A fantasy created by myself that only I hold.


  Come with me on a journey Inside,


  To my playground built for me, a place I can hide.


  In my mind I keep out that of which I choose,


  Letting In only wishes of my perfect reality.


  There's a land of which I've come to find,


   It's a secret place, a playground In my mind.


                                Keith Garrett                 

THE BALLAD OF A MAN

                                THE BALLAD OF A MAN


  The sun keeps going down, no one's ever around,



  No one talks to me no more, I see my body on the 
  Floor.


  The days and nights run into tomorrow, a little laughter 
   And some sorrow,


  Tears and crying in a world of pain, my mother went away 
  Before spring was awake.


  My dad's been gone since I was a little boy, laughter and 
  Joy in between my sorrow,


  Songs that ring inside my head remind me of things from 
  Yesterday and friends.


   I started out a little boy, grew to a man who wonders 
  Where he's going,


  Brothers and sisters all over the place, I see their faces, 
  Do they have the same names.


  I travel my own road of life, three children I love and an 
  ex-wife I have never even liked,


  This is a Ballad of a man who loved and cared, he did in 
  His life all that he can.
                             Keith Garrett