AT THE TOP OF THE HILL
From where I stand it seems so high,
My struggles to climb up near the sky.
To get up there at the top of the hill,
Will take my energy, also my will.
Scrapes and bruises are a part of my quest,
Where I’d like to get for my life to be the best.
Slip I might or stumble along the way,
Giving up is not part of my game.
When I get there at the top of the hill,
Accomplished my fight for the thing I did want.
Keith Garrett
ON THANKSGIVING DAY
Morning as I open my sleepy eyes, the sun doesn’t shine,
A cool, breezy, Autumn day, the sky is heavy, snow on its way.
This is to be a most unusual morning as something special is to be,
On Thanksgiving day a visitor will make his way to this door.
It’s been felt through the night while I slept, not a dream to be,
A miracle? a feeling of a most special gift on this thankful day.
He’s coming, I thought of him all week, how will this man appear to me,
I’ve prayed and prayed that my wish for this day would be answered.
Is it possible that he can be as he once was when I sat on his lap as a child,
It’s about that time, there will be no knock, I will not see but he will be.
The wind is blowing all around, there will be no sound, the moment is now,
The door I open, you are here, on Thanksgiving day I feel you everywhere.
Keith Garrett
FINDING FREEDOM
The search for freedom and a fight to keep it,
After thousands of years more is taken away today.
It’s all up for sale, we can barely walk in the hills anymore,
Dirt, water, and even air are not ours without a dollar.
We are not as free as we believe, we are allowed to do as they say,
All wars are not about freedom, most are of corruption and money.
Finding freedom when so much has changed is becoming rare,
We are losing it from every direction, before our eyes, and behind our backs.
The enemy appears to be us, look to our neighbor more than across the sea,
Look around people, we are losing our rights, finding freedom between what is seen.
Keith Garrett
THE SAME BENCH
As children, friends were we always hanging out,
In the park throwing a football, playing frisbee.
We were like most kids never worrying about the future,
We spent many Summers playing in the sun, running into the years.
There was a bench we would sit on after running around, made of wood,
Laughing and telling jokes, we were the best of friends until the sun set.
My friend went away, life moved on beyond those days, older we became,
As fate would have it we again found one another through the mysteries of life.
The magic of childhood goes away but I believe a piece of it is always there,
We walked and talked, back to the park too where we laughed, we sat on the same bench.
Keith Garrett
IN THE AIR,
COMES A CHILL
The Summer heat comes to Its end, August and September gone,
Autumn born again, Into the Winter It makes Its way day by day.
Earlier the shadows’ can be seen on the face of the mountains’,
From a distance how cold, oh! so very cold, they appear up high.
The days’ light disappears’ earlier as the nights’ grow long,
A breeze across the sky tells us, In the air comes a chill.
Keith Garrett
DREAMS’
Dreams’ like the hopes and wishes that rest In our hearts’,
Some come true, If for us only a shattered few, like you.
Dreams’ are a look into the future of our wanting thoughts’,
Reasons’ and seasons’ for them to be or be not.
Dreams’ may bring love to a heart so lonely and of care,
What Is a dream If never with another shared?
I dream of one day when a dreamers’ heart finds mine,
We’ll walk as one but two different lives.
Keith Garrett
THANKSGIVING DREAM
It came to me one morning as I listened to the sirens and noise,
Fall is here, Thanksgiving is coming soon and this is not the place to be.
My Thanksgiving dream is to get away to that special, little town of peace,
Something out of a movie, going home where friends and family still live.
Driving across the country to where memories wait for me, you can see Fall,
When I arrive I can see many trees with leaves dropping to the ground.
Suppose to be cold tonight, snow will be here soon, the days are short,
Here with family, old friends gather for a Thanksgiving feast and thoughts.
The night is quiet, a warm fire, watching the sun go down with autumn alive,
Tomorrow is the day, asleep tonight in my old room, I can hear the wind howl.
Morning light awakens me with the smell of foods cooking downstairs,
Mom and Grandma in the kitchen, turkey in the oven and pies on the counter.
A cup of coffee, warm is the fire, outside on the porch as cold is the morning,
This is Fall, back home for the holidays where the seasons change.
Kids playing in piles of leaves, grateful for this day that’s about to be,
Today at the table together we sit, share, thankful for this Thanksgiving dream.
Keith Garrett
