A FATHER, A WIFE, AND YOU


 Wondering why my hurt Is so much, let me tell you,


 Once upon a time this man was a boy, a boy with a dad.


 Father left and went away, no goodbyes, no parades,


 My love for him was very real, now just a dream, a 
 Dream.

 Once together a wife had I, a family of five once 
 Upon a time,

 Never Imagined that It could end, just a dreamer 
 To have been.

 Now their Is you so what can this much In love man do,


 You're here and there but are you anywhere, for me 
 Anywhere.

 A father, a wife, and you, two are lost, Is there still  
 For me, you,

                           Keith Garrett

                 A FACE WITH TWO SIDES


 There's a part of you that hides, not known to me,



 This shadow that makes your Identity whole.



 It lets' me know, only that part of you that opens' up,



 Missing Is a piece of emotion that shows' a picture.



  Missing Is a full and beautiful look from within,



 A smile sometimes cries but tries to hide what's real.



 Tell me who you are, tell me where you can be found,



 Let me love all of you, show me both sides.


                  Keith Garrett

                      "FOREVER"


 Above from the wide open sky the sun shines
 Ever so bright,
 Will It warm our world always or one day say 
 A farewell.
 What If the wind that we can not see goes away,

 Will It again blow across the hills and make the 
 Trees away.
 The glowing moon sits like a lighthouse In the sky,

 Watching, always watching but for how long will 
 It rise.
 The rain falls from the sky, from the clouds that 
 Drift on by,
 Will the drops take from the Earth the thirst so 
 As not to die.
 See the animals run through the woods and across 
 The plains,
 Today they live somewhat free, tomorrow will they be.

 We live, we love, dance to the music, sing from our 
 Hearts,
 Search for the happiness that makes It all worth living.

 There are things that may be never, things never lost,

 Nothing lasts forever fore forever we are not.


                     Keith Garrett

                 A DIFFERENT KIND OF HOME

 I thought about it a little more recently as I 
 Stroll through the park,

 So sad it is for some of them as they are hard 
 Working And lost everything.

 For others there are no excuses, only bad choices or 
 Criminal doing,

 Some get lost in the cracks as the help that is for              
 Them Needed does not care.

 We have homeless heroes, how is it possible when  
 They Gave their all,

 Some are sick and hurt as they lost more than their 
 Material life.

 A  different kind of home they now have, not what 
 They remember,

 Let me describe it to you, some of us are a paycheck  
 Away, Maybe a day.

 The roof over their head may be a clear sky or a rainy 
 Night,

 The walls around them are not the same as they often 
 Change.

 A couch wherever they sit, a bed wherever they rest 
 Their head,

 Television set, that which is taken in by their wishing 
 eyes.

 A shower for granted taken each day, when will a shower 
 Come their way,

 Gone now is the refrigerator that was, like an animal 
 They search now.

 A different kind of home not that they can call their 
 Own,They roam,

 Circumstances of why, many reasons you see, sadness wears 
 Many feet.
               Keith Garrett                                                       

                 A DRIFTING MAN


 On a road of travel without any end,


 Rests his weary body wherever he can.


 Sleeps in the night hidden from sight,


 Days' of length, the next stop is any place.


 From town to town he wanders with hope,


 Worry fills his head about that next meal.


 Find a job and stay in one place a short while,


 Friends and smiles disappear with the miles.


 A drifting man sees much of the land,


 Meets many faces, lonely where he stands.


 A price he pays to live in such a way,


 There's a gift in seeing the world,


 What's taken away is the peace of settling in 
 One place.

 He chooses a path, he's a wandering man,


 Today he's here, gone again.


                                                                                                            Keith Garrett

                           "TOBY"

 He was my friend, he would always know when I was near,


 My presence was felt by this dark haired boy, he would 
 Sound out.

 Walking In to his kingdom was such a pleasure of mine, he 
 Almost smiled,

 Through the window his eyes would find me, waited he did 
 For me to see.

 An excitement for this beautiful friend when I showed up 
 To visit,

 The love In his eyes sparkled, he knew I understood,
 I loved him.

 Outside we would play, running or throwing a ball or 
 Just sitting,

 I miss him, I wonder If he could possibly remember 
 Anything at all.

 To see him again, possibly one day, his name Is Toby.


                  Keith Garrett

                                                                                            
               A CHAMPION YOU ARE


 You tee off at dawn with club in hand,


 Swinging for your target, you take your stand.


                                                                                      
 Giving up is not what you do,


 Eighteen holes, whatever it takes to make it through.


 Walking the course no matter how tired,


 Strength and fight are in you to win this match.


 On to another day, one more tee off,


 Again swinging that club till the end.


 Every sunset under par,  Always a champion you are.

                 Keith Garrett

                     A SMALL HOUSE


 Along the banks of a river, is home,


 Apple trees and hills of grass live here.


 A small house for a family of people,


 Food on the table and a fire burning warm.


 Sitting on the porch, a fiddle in hand I am,


 A pipe to smoke is an evening kind of thing.


 Horses are down for the night, children in our sight,


 Nineteenth century life is quite a fight.


 A small house is all we need to believe,


 Hopes and dreams are seen as far as our eyes can see.

                         Keith Garrett

                       MEMORIAL DAY


 When we think of Memorial day, what is it to us,


 Is it the looked forward to barbecues with friends.


 Maybe the beach and lying in the sun,


 Going to the park with our children, relaxing.


 Is it watching movies, drinking cold beer for the day,


 Going away camping, forgetting the troubles in our way.


 My father traveled the oceans, sailed the seven seas,


 A navy man in the Korean war, his journal tells me


 Of all the places, lands where he would be.


 I hold in my possession the poetry he wrote on a ship 
 In a time of war,


 The things I have to remember him by are not just 
 In a wooden box, they are stored in my heart.
                   

 When the sound of planes, jets, or what flies on 
 Memorial Day,

 Listen carefully, for the ones you love, miss, or lost, 
 Think of them today.

 For those who are lost, missing, who gave their lives 
 For what they believed,

 Pray for all of them, the thousands of  family members 
 Who rest together.

                            IN HEAVEN
                                                                                                           Keith Garrett

                    A MAN WITH AN AX

 Wood needs to be chopped, it sits waiting, many 
 Types and sizes,

 Fall is in the air, chillier the air turns, work 
 Must be done.

 A job it is to chop enough wood to warm a home for 
 the Winter,
 Must be done, perhaps no fun as it is an accomplishment 
 To be proud.

 Stack it in a pile, carry it piece by piece, chopped and 
 Split wood for a fire,

 A smell, can you take it in, smell the aroma as it's cut, 
 Stronger it grows.

 A man with an ax gets this job done, he sweats from  
 Morning till the setting sun,

 Swinging an ax, working as the cold moves closer,


 The wood pile will rise higher.


 A man with an ax is strong and determined,


 He will succeed because he knows of its need,


 When it's done, a Winter of warmth,


 When the setting sun, he knows the job is done. 

                              Keith Garrett