LIGHT IN THE WINDOW

Each night as the sun goes down, darkness visits a sleepy town,

A usual stroll through the streets brings peace before dreams.

What’s noticed from a mans’ eyes within the blackness is a window,

A dark building shows off the faint light that glows from behind a shade.

As I pass by every night along my route of walking I wonder about the light,

Who might be there beyond the walls surrounding this one and only window?

Always seems so quiet, could there be laughter or singing on the other side,

Someone quietly reading a book, dreaming of what’s out there in the world,

Beyond their window, do they wonder of things that are a mystery to them?

Is there a possible sadness that wanders around inside, who might hide,

A name must be attached to a soul with a life, only a light in the window is seen.

Keith Garrett

IS MY LIFE A DREAM?

Thinking about it as merely a wondering, curious thought,

My every day and all that I do appears to be a life that’s true.

Whether your time here has been of happiness or just sad,

What if and just suppose that it wasn’t yours, wasn’t real.

All that you know and everything you have, are you dreaming,

What if as you are asleep your mind has made up and written a story.

Perhaps a lifetime, the friends, family members, that which you know to be,

Has no reality, that but a dream or to awake to a nightmare of screams.

Is my life a dream,? will I awake to find that nothing is as it seemed,

Reality is not what I have seen, for what appeared to be an eternity.

What if the life you believe to be is an accident, a long coma state,

Ask yourself, is my life a dream,? what if I had a different reality.?

Keith Garrett

A PICTURE

I stand here watching as I am not noticed but observe I do,

By an old, leafless tree I watch this scene hidden in the shadows.

A long time ago I see in front of me an old farmhouse of red,

Old, withered, fences surround the house and land, many trees in the distance stand.

A sky of clouded blue is a part of this picture seen from my eyes,

To the left of me slowly walking is a young man and horse,

Their shadows follow along as they head on down the road.

Covered with leaves is the ground as the look and feel of Fall is around,

A wagon sits unhitched close to where it is that I stand,

A picture from a long time ago, not recognizing where I am.

A picture of a place that once used to be, now just a picture of a memory.

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 sets, 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 BRIDGE I CROSS

Far it reaches through my time,

My travel across it a neverending journey.

Obstacles are sometimes in my way,

I’ll hurdle over or push out of my way.

Moving along searching, always searching,

For just a little more of things not to hurt me.

Not ever knowing what’s ahead,

Stop I will not until the end.

Keith Garrett

DRINK FROM THE FOUNTAIN

Fact or a fantasy, like the wishing, neverending thought that we can

Climb up and follow that mysterious rainbow to a magical land.

A four leaf clover, that search for the little green grass of hope,

Wish upon a star, will It get you far, blow out the candles,

Did you get that which you closed your eyes for?

Drink from the fountain, first, you must search the world,

Reality or a myth, could this be true, did god place upon this earth

The fountain of life, Is It possible somewhere hidden contains a fountain so true.

How can this be a possibility fore It Is said that all will someday die,

If so true then god put It In a place where no man would ever venture to.

Keith Garrett

THE VIGILANTE

A peaceful man, calm was he with a smile so bright,

Until they took his wife then his daughter’s life.

His world was turned inside out, nothing will be the same,

His name is known within the business world, the nights are his.

A man who did have a family, now he takes the lives of them who take,

His life is much different now, days of a regular citizen, nights of vengeance.

He now lives within himself, with the pain he inflicts upon the evil that brings pain,

He is the vigilante, a good man who had enough of bad people in a crazy world.

Keith Garrett