BRAVERY


 A hero just as anyone, he refused to carry a gun,



 They called of him a coward, a warrior, he stood tall.



 Of his country he did believe, they did not care about 
 His beliefs,


 Daws the coward was his name, world war two, death is 
 True.


 Hero without a gun, a man who did as much as anyone,



 He was strong as they thought he did not belong, without 
 A gun.


 He stayed behind, physically and mentally a man who gave 
 It his all,


 Afraid just as any man, never a coward, strong as anyone 
 Fore he had no gun.


 He walked, he ran through the war without a weapon to 
 Call his own,


 A hero for sure, coward, a word never breathed in a 
 Lifetime no more.

                     Keith Garrett

               A MOMENT IN TIME


 A speck of dust, just a trickle of water,


 Soon would blow with the wind and dry into nothing.


 Our time is now for we are a whisper wanting to 
 Be heard,

 A short period for laughter, remembered for what 
 We leave.

 For so long has time existed, the world, the universe 
 So large,

 We are but a fragment, a particle of all that was 
 Created.

 A moment in time was this gift we were given from 
 God above,

 A moment to see and love all there is to understand  
 From this.

 Where we go from here we shall not know, but hold 
 No fear,

 Like many fallen leaves from a tree, we are one, we 
 Disappear.
              Keith Garrett

                                                                             
             UNDER A TREE, SHE CRIES


 A sunny day, a shaded tree, she rests,


 See her do I as passing by, she cries.


 Why do you have tears, what makes you cry,?


 Such a beautiful day, do things not go your way?


 Why do I cry asks the man walking by, why?


 A friend has just died, she wanders now in the sky.


 Sick was she as on this day god has taken her away,


 Forever missed will be a friend of mine, not fair I say.


 Hear what I say as under a tree you cry,


 Her pain and suffering are no more, listen too just why.


 She lies on the earth as her spirit so happy, says 
 Goodbye,

 Laughing with Angels, walking forever with the lord up 
 So high,

 Under a tree she cries, I walked her way at a most 
 Perfect time.
                   Keith Garrett

                                                                                                       
             ALONG A COUNTRY ROAD



 These things I might find strolling along a 
 Country road,

 From my mind I can create a day or reality along 
 My way.

 I see the sun rising in the early morning sky, my 
 Day begins,

 Dream do I of a perfect setting, fields and hills 
 Of beautiful color.

 Nothing can go wrong, not in this made up scene 
 That I want to be,

 Swim do I in a pond that appears along a country road, 
 Quiet and alone.

 There is a wind blowing through the trees, across the 
 Field I feel,

 Hay stacks scattered in a country dream, a farm where 
 I wish to be.

 Along a country road all possibilities unfold, from  
 A dream, all that can be seen.                   

                            Keith Garrett

                                                                             
                 BILLY THE KID


 A story to tell as on the eve of the civil war it 
 Would come to be a birth,
 An Irish neighborhood in New York city, November 
 Twenty third, eighteen fifty nine.

 William Henry McCarty JR. later known as the infamous 
 Outlaw, Billy the kid,
 A mother known as Katherine, a father unknown, a little 
 boy would never know.
 William H. Bonney would one day join the Lincoln County   
 War, life would become short.

 Legend tells that he killed twenty one men, later a 
 Folk hero is told,
 Five foot nine he stood, blue eyes, smooth complexion, 
 Sometimes a friendly sort.                      

 Some say he was a neat dresser, liked to sport his 
 Mexican sombrero,
 Billy was skilled with firearms, a cowboy, gambler,  
 Cattle rustler, he was an outlaw.

 Sheriff Pat Garrett would come to hunt him down, Billy   
 Was only a kid, what waited for him.

 He was cornered, shot and killed by a man, a lawman,  
 July Fourteenth, eighteen eighty one.

 He was only twenty one when his life ended, a young man  
 Dies back in a time at Fort Sumner

 New, Mexico, Pat shot him down, He was an outlaw but 
 He was once a mother's son,
 Rest in peace Billy the kid.

                       Keith Garrett

                  KEEPER OF THE LIGHT


 Up in the air he spreads his wings,


 He stretches to the heavens and sees many things.


 This God of the sun, KEEPER OF THE LIGHT,


 Soars in the sky on an eternal flight.


 So peaceful is he, away up so high,


 Forever and ever this spirit will fly.


 Keeper of the light, what do you see?


 Beyond the sun, a mystery to me.


 Through the wind, you travel round, and round,


 Watching over this star, from you there's no sound.


 I can only imagine you're a spectacular sight,


 Fly way up high, keeper of the light.


                Keith Garrett

                       A HERO


 A hero is one who stands and fights,


 Gives that which he has to the one that may die.


 For that which he believes, he'll surrender his life,


 Take a bullet, jump in front of a car, and not hide.


 He'll do what it takes for family or friends,


 Walk into a fire, give a lung or a limb.


 He'll give of himself although stricken with fear,


 Man or woman, heroes can be anywhere or any one.


 A hero is one who will lay down his gun,


 Be there when crisis is upon us.


 A hero is made up of those who stand together,


 Whatever the battle, no matter the weather.


                  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

                                                                                         
                   THE CAPED CRUSADERS


 Do you remember? If  you were a child, an adult 
 Would know,
 Nineteen sixty six was the beginning of a super  
 Heroes show.
 I watched as there were villians, Batman and Robin 
 Would only know,
 I collected cards when I was a child, the bat mobile 
 And all they acquired.
 Between a world of reality and make believe, Batman 
 And the boy wonder were a child's dream,

 A call from the commissioner that a criminal was back in 
 Town, the bat signal was found.
 The Bat boat, the Bat copter, so amazed was I by the Bat   
 Cave, down the poles on their way,

 Masks and capes, crazy weapons to help them on their  
 Journey To stop the criminally insane.

 Remember their names, so many to say, Joker, Riddler, 
 Catwoman, And penguin, are a memory,
 So many villians, can you think of their names, look   
 At Their Faces, a child once again.
 Batman and Robin, a comical team, Bruce Wayne and Dick  
 Grayson Were reality in a dream,
 Let's not forget Alfred, butler and keeper of secrets in 
 Between, Gotham city and fantasy.

                                 Keith Garrett

                                                                                                 
                EMOTIONS FROM THE WIND



 Listen to it on a stormy night, screams with an 
 Angry fright,



 Does it cry out after disaster strikes, invisible tears.




 Can you hear the laughter from it, blowing on a Spring 
 Day,



 Is in it sadness, as always must it go away, does the 
 Wind feel.



 Emotions from the wind, a thought, and fantasy from 
 Within,



 We must dream and believe that possibilities are ours to 
 Be.

                    Keith Garrett