Walk these streets, sidewalks of wood,

Where men wear boots, hats, and guns.

Women wear dresses of an earlier time,

Some of morals, others work men for a dime.

A sheriff, a deputy, to keep peace and order,

Jail is for those who can’t follow the law.

A school house, a church, places of good,

Children learn lessons, a house of god.

A saloon is a place of drink and games,

A piano heard, upstairs, women of the night.

In a western town there are many things,

A stable for horses, a gunfight to end one’s day,

Once upon a time in a western town.

Keith Garrett



Let me tighten your brains, he would say,

I’ll give you a wallop, this way he would play.

Memories of a man, a dear and wise soul,

Italian all the way, left and went away some time ago.

A player of the cards, a trick or to win the game,

He worked in the shipyard, hard at it everyday.

Born in nineteen eighteen, Louis John Cordischi,

Remember with me, grandpa Louie,

He has a home in heaven, shared with loved ones today.

As I write these words of a man far away,

I see his face and his smile, his voice heard by me.

Keith Garrett



A man searching for something, always searching,

He travels through the desert, a town in his sight.

On a horse he rides, the sun upon his back,

Dressed in western clothing of the time.

What he wants is a bed for the night,

A warm meal that satisfies, a bath much-needed.

He heads for the saloon, a drink in his thoughts,

Sit down for a game of cards with faces of a town.

Just passing through, a man and his horse,

Both bedded down for the night,

When the sun rises, his search will continue.

Keith Garrett



On the porch she sits, telling us stories from her life,

Times and places of difference, tales from long ago.

She likes to knit watching life go on around her everyday,

Playing games with the children, watching a show, baking.

She does not walk the same, as once when she was a younger lady,

Eyes that do not see the same wear glasses that make scenes clear.

Hair of a color so different from the dark, flowing that once was,

Aches and pains from a lifetime of once energy and much play.

Grandmother, you were once a young girl just like me, a picture I see,

You have had such a life from many stories sitting on the porch, told to me.

You are grandmother, one day I shall be like you, telling stories of my own life,

Different times, I will age and have had a life, I will be one day grandmother.

Keith Garrett



Walk a little while with me under heaven as god watches,

See the beauty of the world as he intended, walk with me.

Hand in hand, travel this path of life for just awhile and smile,

The sun shines upon us, the clouds have faces of their own.

In heaven all is special and wonderful, walk further with me,

Feel the wind as it follows behind and passes us by, I feel.

Where is it that we belong, where do we walk as we talk,?

Thoughts of prayer keep us company, hold my hand and walk.

The grace of love is given to few, everlasting love that is true,

Love and companionship may be shared between two without

A commitment of being joined together always, without pain.

I am this lonely soul who walks with an angel hand in hand,

Smile to smile as with you we’ll love and stroll along, walk awhile.

Keith Garrett