MYSTERY OF HER SONG

You're so vain.                Keith Garrett

                          MYTHICAL GHOSTS
                                                                  Keith Garrett
  In our minds do they live, exist only in our dreams,


  Gaze out into the night, beyond the stars in the dark.


  Remember as a child you would put a tooth under 
  Your pillow,

  As you slept a fairy would visit and replace it with 
  Riches.

  Mother nature we do not see as a mortal but live within 
  Her,

  She is known by all with the changing seasons of time.


  As you drift off into slumber it is he whom watches over,


  A man whom possesses a dreaming sand for a believer.


  Grants does he the gift of love so fine from an arrow,


  Only Imagine this ghost fore he is forever cupid.


  He's as old as the universe, he's of the beginning,


  He knows of life, the name is father time.


  A cold sort of spirit, he exists from a myth,


  When the freeze of night comes, lives does Jack Frost.


  Eggs in a basket, colored and decorated for a child


  Jelly beans and treats from an Easter bunny not seen.


  Last but not least, a jolly old man with a beard so white,


  He  gives to the world on Christmas eve, Santa Claus.

                           HOLIDAY CHEER


  Let us sit back for a moment and reflect,



  Not upon the negative or even losses we must bare.



  We must keep moving forward, walking into a new 
  Year,


  Blessings are many for I've had my share.



  A holiday cheer, I raise my glass to all friends and 
  Loved ones,


  A toast to end and begin a most positive and looked 
  Forward to New Year.


  May your dreams be realized, wishes are hope,



  A prayer that the light of God be shined down upon you.



  This is to those whom never give up,



  No matter what the struggle of life be.


                                              Keith Garrett

                         HAVE YOU SEEN WINTER?


  It comes to life between Fall and Spring,



  In the woods, beneath snow covered trees,



  Where leaves are blown by a chilly, cold breeze.



  Above the hills, high in the snow covered mountains,



  Around a frozen pond, a snow surrounded lake.



  Have you seen Winter?  open your mind and it's there,



  See with your Imagination, there is a reality to the season.

                                              Keith Garrett

                                HARPS OF HEAVEN


  Winter falls upon us, the winds of cold blow, 


  Leaves have fallen from the now naked trees.


  Thoughts of miracles are a snow falling dream,


  Angels dance in the sky and comfort the night.


  Musical sound echoes from heaven,


  The strumming of harps, harps of heaven.


  Above the clouds, beyond the sparkling stars,


  Where there is no cold, no sorrow day to day.


  Play those harps, let the beauty of peace be heard,


  Let the spirits rejoice as eternal life is beautiful.


  Upon us are worldly pleasures,


  Listen for the harps of heaven.


                                           Keith Garrett

                        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


  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


  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


  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


  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