TRAIN RIDE

  Awaiting Its' arrival, as here It comes to take me away,

 Sounds like thunder rumbling down the track, whistling.

  Puffing black smoke up Into the air, Its' headlight shining,

 This monster of steel Is here, time for me to climb aboard.

 Listen to the hissing from this steam engine, hear It,

  We take off heading through the hills' with much to see.

  From out of the window, stare do I as we pass through,

  Darkness from within a mountain carved out a passage.

  Tons of rock and dirt hanging above us as we travel,

  Moving through this tunnel Into the light, sun going down.

  I listen to the sound of the power of this traveling train,

  Out of the window, Is a clear sky as the light from the 
  Full moon

  Shines down, guiding our way across the land.

                                       Keith Garrett 


                         I REMEMBER JACK

  He was a wanderer, a young man seeking peace,

  War tears many families apart, a mystery was Jack.

  Appeared did he on a roadside one day, I did change,

 Something strange about a man who came from the past.

  I remember a man named Jack who granted me a wish,

  I did not make that wish and Jack had to go far away,

  He made it for me as I saw him again one day.

 A much older me, I did not know happiness was for me,

  Jack died in nineteen forty four, long before I was born.

           Keith Garrett


                                    I AM A BEE!

  In the Spring and Summer, you'll find me around,

  Even In the Fall, I am found.

  Flying and buzzing, Is not the only thing that I do,

  My love for making honey, Is so very true.

  My quest Is not to sting, though my reputation Is this,

  Just like you, to survive and be left alone Is my wish.

  Many cousins,' to me In this world,

  Different are they, this I will say.

  They all slap at me, run away, and scream,

  If only I could laugh, then they would hear me.

  What frightens' them, I'm so small you see,

   I'm tiny, I'm fragile, I'm only a bee.

                                   Keith Garrett                               


                  FROM OUT OF MY WINDOW

 I gazed outside, at a bird on a limb,

 So many clouds, made my light very dim.

 The things I see, are not so new,

  From out of my window, a simple view.

  I stand here watching, as time goes by,

  I listen for the sound, I can hear nature cry.

  The wind passes by, through the trees It blows,

  Stare out at the night, watch as the moon glows.

  As day becomes night, and the night turns to day,

 Time does not stand still, but from out of my window,

  I see things my own way.

                                           Keith Garrett


                              A BOY NAMED PAUL

  I knew a boy, by the name of Paul,

  He went away, late Summer or Fall.

 When he was little, he played in the snow,

 These things I remember, from long ago.

 I think of the smile, he had on his face,

 It fades from my memory, yet there's still a trace.

 When I think of him, it reminds me,

  Of just how fragile, this life can be.

  It makes me feel special, for he came to me,

  Just a short time, before life set him free.

  There was a boy, by the name of Paul,

  He laughed and played, but that's not all.

  He had a life, of which I speak,

  Cut too short, it did not reach its peak.

  I'll think of him, as you do,

 A soul in heaven, a part of you.

 For his mother, Father, and Sister.

                    Keith Garrett


                         MANY FEELINGS' OF SPRING

 As slowly the days' get longer and the cold travels away,

 A change of seasons' comes Into our day.

  Out comes the sun as earlier It shines,

  The blooming of flowers enters our minds.

  No more frost or the freezing of night,

 The song of the birds, a tune that Is nice.

 The shadows appear but much later In the day,

  Darkness does not visit, away longer, It stays.

  On the trees and shrubs, new growth will appear,

  It's time to awake fore Springtime Is here.

  On the mountains the snow melts, Into water 
  Running down,

  Wildlife returns, we hear many a sound.

  Look around to what this time brings,

  The things that we see, tell us this Is Spring.

                                                    Keith Garrett


                                        CELTIC SOUNDS'

  Irish music from a far away land,

  Mystical tunes Into my mind, they are heard.

  Soothing to the soul, these words listened too,

 Closing my eyes, drifting Into a dream state of peace.

 These voices of Angels,' singing so soft,

  Echoes Into your thoughts,' feelings' of at ease.

  Instruments of sound, like a symphony of happiness,

  Something of a heavenly miracle.

  Celtic sounds' from long ago,

  Live on and on like spirits' In the wind.

                                     Keith Garrett



  A small, mischievous, Elf, dressed in green attire,

  Belts of black, boots perhaps of the same color.

  From Irish folklore, it has been said they have been

Seen roaming the Irish countryside, these wee folk.

   Members of a clan, they invaded Ireland, banished 
  To live underground,

  Standing only two to three feet tall, these devious 

  Quick witted, Intelligent, they evade capture from 

  They live in underground caves with entrances, or 
  A hollow trunk of a fairy tree,

  It is said that wishes of three have been granted to 
  Some that leave them be.

  They are known for their love of Irish music and dance, 
  Instruments played,
  Tin whistle, the fiddle, Bodhran, and the Irish harp, a 
  Look with beards and pipes.

  Shoemakers they are, believed because of all the 
  Dance they do,

  To catch one of the wee folk is nearly impossible, as 
  They are smart with magical powers,

  Vanish into thin air they can, a pot of gold is a most 
  Possible dream.

  You'll hear an Irish Leprechaun before you'll ever see one,

 They have a fondness for drinking Irish Poitin, catch one 
  If you can.
                               Happy St. Patricks Day,

                                 Keith Garrett


                                      A PICTURE OF YOU

  Plenty of times I saw you, watched as you changed,

  A portrait of a baby, many years ago as time has aged it,

  As a child, you appeared a certain way, young at play.

  From twelve to seventeen, a face that went different ways,

  Twenty was a special year, your first child, a boy named Gary.

  Seven children as the years went by, your picture changed,

  Beyond eighteen or twenty five, seasons changed in your eyes.

  Mom! I miss you, I think I can hear you when I sleep in the 
  the night,

  A picture of you rests in my sight, a picture of you in a book 
  That I write.

                                     Keith Garrett
     My mom, 1939- 2019


                                          A HEARTBEAT

  Listen to my heartbeat, thump, thump, It beats,

  Blood runs through it, listen to me as I breathe.

  A heartbeat means life, It beats fast or slow, 

  Thump, thump, it goes, a heartbeat that slowly 
  Grows old.

  It speaks of who I am, only one of a kind,

  Listen, thump, thump, with a hand to my chest, feel 
  As I am alive.

  A heartbeat lets us know that this moment is still ours,

  Hear it pound, listen to its beautiful sound.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, one beat at a time,

  A heartbeat so precious, thump as it beats one more time.

                                         Keith Garrett