A COWBOYS HEART


 Born in a town, his roots most important to him,



 A mother and father, family mean so much.



 Love for the land that he walks upon, love of life,



 Precious is a horse he calls friend, a hard working
 Man.


 Maybe the love of a woman he holds in his heart,



 A beautiful song lives in this cowboys many thoughts.



 Integrity and honor is in the kind of person he is,



 He has things of want but needs very little,



 Watching the sun go down as he rests upon his horse.



  He does what it takes, he stands always tall,



 He gives of his heart, much heart, a cowboys heart.

                    Keith Garrett

                                                                                                       
                A CONFESSION TODAY



 As a child I was a dreamer, my imagination 
 Running wild,

 Life was somewhat of a fairy tale, I awoke at a 
 Young age.

 As my father died then much anger grew inside,


 A slow process as I was shy, not really did I 
 Seem to cry.

 Now a lost boy inside, kept it to myself as I 
 Played each day,

 My teen years were without a father or parent who 
 Who appeared invisible.

 This is my view and what I believe, others may disagree 
 But I am me,

 I was never one who wanted to hurt people or animals,
 Out of control.

 I was never a bad person but did things that I would     
 Regret in many ways,

 Decisions and choices would haunt to this day, some 
 Would give a change.

 There are those that can not be fixed, I can mend 
 Others, day by day,

 A confession today, from a man who was never perfect 
 In any way.
                     Keith Garrett

                                                                                                             
                A COLLECTION OF TIME



                                                                                            
 From our first look, a picture, a baby book,

                                                                                                
 Pictures in school, pictures in the park,


 Home movies and videos, memories of who we are.


 A collection of time, scenes and images from a life,


 A scrap book of many filled and turned pages to see,


 Photo albums created from places, times with family.


 A collection of time, pictures faded, recalled faces 
 That change,

 All that which we hold onto, saved in boxes, dusty 
 shelves of thoughts,

 A collection of time, memories in our minds, treasures 
 Left behind.
                 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

                  A CHANCE TO SEE


 A chance to see fore never have I been able 
 To walk in light,

 A chance to watch the sunrise as never before 
 seen but dreamed.

 A chance to see the trees sway in the wind as 
 The wind never seen,

 A chance to see the mountains that I never 
 Thought a reality.

 A chance to see the clouds so big in the sky 
 Drifting slowly by,

 A chance to see the waves in the ocean only
 Heard through time.

 A chance to walk without a cane, too be free, walk, 
 And see,

 A chance to see a smiling face that might smile 
 Back at me.

 A chance to see all the things that I have
 Always dreamed,

 A chance to see what's never been before these eyes,


 A chance, a chance, to see what is in front of me.


                         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 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

                                                                                           
                     A BOAT LOST



 Slowly floating, adrift in waters so calm,



 Why does it have no travelers, alone.



 Fog and mist surround this shape of wood,



 Where has it been, where does it travel?



 No answers does it give to questions,



 Drifting, slowly drifting to a place of nowhere.


              Keith Garrett

                   A BEGGAR, A THIEF


 He wanders the streets, a taste for food, a thirst 
 For drink,

 Cold to the bones, waiting for a warm place to sleep.


 Asking for that which comforts his pain,


 Pride and self respect are put aside.


 A human being, a man with a story,


 A beggar today without any glory,


 Taking what he wants, no morals or remorse.


 Criminal thoughts, a good man not,


 Working for nothing, he does not care.


 He steals anything, he has no heart,


 A thief many times over, a quitter of sorts.


 A beggar, a thief, so many differences of course.

          Keith Garrett, 

                                                                                                       
                  A BASEBALL DREAM    



 On a farm he grew up, the early days of the game,   



 A bat of his own was made from a tree that stood alone.    



 He had a name for his bat, a certain magic it contained,



 Circumstances would get in the way, a dream put aside.



 Disappeared without a trace until he arrived on a day,



 His special bat carried in hand, this was to be his 
 Last chance.


 For only a moment he would stand beneath the lights,



  A baseball dream before he faded into the night.


                  Keith Garrett