1943 NICKEL


  A nickel I came upon, old is its age,


  Dirty and worn, 1943 had a name.


  When it was made, which first pocket 
  Did hold,

  A celebrity of movies or a farmer tired at night.


  Could it have been the great Joe Dimaggio, 


  As time went by possibly a singer or olympian.


  A little boy had a nickel in his pocket, grew did he,


  famous writer he became, a 1943 nickel, where 
  Could it be?

  Beyond seventy years, this silver looking coin has 
  Traveled,

  Today it rests with me, who held onto it in 1943?

      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

                              100 YEARS FROM TODAY



  Yesterday, what we see as hundreds of years ago is gone,


  History it is to us, read about in books of long lost times.


 The days are always moving along, we do take for granted, 
 The morning,

  The setting sun is a most spectacular sight, heading into 
  The night.

  Here where we stand, may still be standing, another will 
  Be standing,

  100 years from today, the world that we know will have 
  Much changed.

  Just as we wonder, what life was like back in a time of 
  Cowboys and pioneers,

  Tomorrow's people will also wonder and read about our 
  Time and place.

  100 years from today, we will be a part of history, others 
  Will be amazed,

  Just as we are amazed, and dream of those times when the 
  World appeared to be a dream.

                                               Keith Garrett

                                     7 MINUTES


  We all have 7 minutes before something we must do,


  The same time before work is done and time to go home.


  7 minutes waiting or 7 minutes up, what be the circumstances,


  7 minutes in the shower, 7 minutes on the phone,


 7 minutes before dinner, another 7 minutes all alone.


  Time is of the essence, time never stands very still,


 7 minutes late just may save your life, right on time, goodbye.


  In only 7 minutes, from good to bad, your world has changed,


  Snooze for an extra 7 minutes, it may do you a world of good,


  7 minutes a long time to suffer, 7 minutes to love and dream.

                                   Keith Garrett

                                 GLIMMER MAN


  When he moves, it is that he can not be seen,


  Like a shadow that stays, not in the same place.


  He moves as the wind moves, never is he observed,


  Like time, Just as a ghost moves along without notice.


  A phantom, a spirit in the night, exists he does,


  If you become the prey, if seeking you becomes 
  Kis game.

  He will find you, not a soul can run from what can not 
  Be seen,

  He is the glimmer man, his job is to eliminate,


  Keep from being the hunted, he has a name and knows
  His game.

                                        Keith Garrett

                          A HORSE CALLED STORM


 Jet black, tall and strong, he stands in the morning 
 light,

 Out in the grassland, roams this free spirit.


 Never ridden, not a man calls him theirs,


 Answers to not a soul, does this horse left alone.


  His name is storm, dark as the night,


  Moves like lightning, sounds like thunder.


  Fierce, and at times, mean is this beast,


  Untamed by man, natural and free.


  He is friends with each day, land where he runs,


 A horse called storm standing in the sun.

                           Keith Garrett

                                        A HERO


 A hero is one who stands and fights,


  Gives that which he has to the one who 
  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 anyone.


  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

                                       TRAIN RIDE

  Awaiting Its' arrival, as here It comes to take me away,


 Sounds like thunder rumbling down the track, whistling.


  Puffing black smoke up Into the air, Its' headlight shining,


 This monster of steel Is here, time for me to climb aboard.


 Listen to the hissing from this steam engine, hear It,


  We take off heading through the hills' with much to see.


  From out of the window, stare do I as we pass through,


  Darkness from within a mountain carved out a passage.


  Tons of rock and dirt hanging above us as we travel,


  Moving through this tunnel Into the light, sun going down.


  I listen to the sound of the power of this traveling train,


  Out of the window, Is a clear sky as the light from the 
  Full moon

  Shines down, guiding our way across the land.


                                       Keith Garrett 

                         I REMEMBER JACK


  He was a wanderer, a young man seeking peace,


  War tears many families apart, a mystery was Jack.


  Appeared did he on a roadside one day, I did change,


 Something strange about a man who came from the past.


  I remember a man named Jack who granted me a wish,


  I did not make that wish and Jack had to go far away,


  He made it for me as I saw him again one day.


 A much older me, I did not know happiness was for me,


  Jack died in nineteen forty four, long before I was born.

           Keith Garrett

                                    I AM A BEE!


  In the Spring and Summer, you'll find me around,


  Even In the Fall, I am found.


  Flying and buzzing, Is not the only thing that I do,


  My love for making honey, Is so very true.


  My quest Is not to sting, though my reputation Is this,


  Just like you, to survive and be left alone Is my wish.


  Many cousins,' to me In this world,


  Different are they, this I will say.


  They all slap at me, run away, and scream,


  If only I could laugh, then they would hear me.


  What frightens' them, I'm so small you see,


   I'm tiny, I'm fragile, I'm only a bee.


                                   Keith Garrett