WALK WITH ME, THROUGH YORBA

I was ten years old when I made a visit to this new land,

Remembering being in the car, over a hill to where we would live.

The sun shined down on hills everywhere, warm Summer sun,

Nineteen seventy two, I was me, soon I would meet all of you.

Cars and music were so different those days, In a special way,

Think back on those television shows, what were your favorites?

Did you hike out into the hills before time took them away?

The neighborhoods were full of friends, we remember each other from yesterday.

Walk with me through Yorba, Do you remember Glen Knoll and childish ways?

A trek to school on sunny and rainy days, what fears did we hold beyond those days.

Summer’s of Ice creams, horse rides along the trails, frisbees in the air,

Skateboarding from morning till night, laughing with young friends,

I think of doing yard work, washing cars, and collecting bottles for money,

New housing tracks built by sunset, they disappear with the years nights, drifting into eternity.

I remember collecting aluminum cans after all the construction workers went home,

I was a young boy back in a time when we could walk the streets of Yorba, without fear.

Like all small towns, nothing ever stays the same, faces change, age and go away,

There was TG&Y, Vons, Thrifty’s, I recall a pizza place, Did you hang out at Winchell’s?

I walked to school each day with a friend, Glen Knoll was where time was spent,

Walk with me through Yorba, along the streets where friends would meet, you and me.

From Fernglen to Amberdale, Fairmont past Bernardo Yorba where we went to school,

I saw you in your yards, we were only children, maybe fourteen, walking in the seventies.

If I listed your names it would be like all the footsteps I walked in such a great place,

Walk with me across the grass of a high school, Esperanza, nineteen seventy seven,

How can it be so long ago when we began ninth grade, it was today but only in my dreams.

Close your eyes, do you see the streets, can you look back to nineteen seventy three,

Those were the days, Summer Ice creams, fifteen cent triples, a pizza, and pinball for sure.

Walk with me through Yorba, tell me what you see, do you remember me, who indeed,

There was a place, I can still see your face, walking to 7-eleven, a donut, and tiger beat.

We walked within the hills, Just like most things they disappear with time,

Unless you were there you could never appreciate those days, today not the same.

We walked through Yorba, into and past houses of friends, now ghosts and cobwebs,

We were there back then, memories of you my friends, as kids and teens, we did walk.

Keith Garrett

GETTING BACK HOME

So badly have I wanted to go back to where I belong,

A house in a place where friends once visited and played.

Going back where everything has changed, nothing the same,

There are times when all dream about making that trip back.

It’s never the same when you try to go away back in time,

Getting back home, so many times we wish, but where is home?

A fantasy in our minds as time moves forward and we journey on,

We can travel back and see it for what it is but only in our thoughts of yesterday.

Getting back home, home is today, where we stand, older as we continue to dream.

Keith Garrett

FUNERAL FOR ONE

Life is lived to its fullest having friends who last a lifetime

The people you meet along the street, throughout school and beyond.

Co- workers known for such a long while, do you make them laugh and smile,

What mark, what lasting Impression will you leave upon the world.

Will there be those whom will really care enough to be there for those moments,

We always hope that family is the most important of all from beginning to end.

The sad fact being that a lifetime can add scars and create a wedge between,

At times family and friends may, unfortunately, drift apart and not return.

Sometimes we do make amends before in our lives too late it is,

That’s not always the reality of things as regrets are for everyone.

If it’s not too late then visit, call on the phone, don’t die alone,

This is not the way you should go away, not a send off for you,

Funeral for one is not much love shown for anyone.

Keith Garrett

FROM YESTERDAY

Your voice was heard from yesterday,

Echoing my friend, memories of a time and play.

Where did you go, lost from my life,

After thirty years, I heard you one night.

We walked the streets side by side, you and I,

Boys of mischief with dreams in our eyes.

From me to you, a best friend listened to again,

Once upon a Summer, barefoot in the wind.

From yesterday I could hear the voice of a friend,

Many miles into life, I hear once again.

We can’t get back those days gone by,

The gift of a chance for a friend and I.

Remember two boys from a long time ago,

They walked the streets, today they still dream.

Keith Garrett

FROM WHERE I SIT

Ahead in front of me, I gaze at a sight,

Of a world of wonders, not always fright.

I see the good that has been upon us blessed,

Maybe taken for granted by all at one time.

Seeing at times like a soul with no eyes,

Listen again with my ears, to hear what’s around.

Opening my mind to now focus on what’s to see,

Much love around me there is to be.

To understand all that’s been good,

And put away in the distance any bad as I should.

Things that are from where I sit.

Keith Garrett

FROM THESE EYES SEEN

What do I dream, look Into my eyes, what do I see,

To you, are my eyes beautiful, what do your eyes see.

My eyes shine In the light, they’re a color of brown,

A face I wear but you do not see, you will not see me.

From these eyes seen are amazing and wonderful things’,

In my time there have been tears’ shown to you, why.

These eyes take In all that will appear before them,

Do you know me, have you seen me before.

Keith Garrett

FROM THEIR LAND

OF STRUGGLE AND PAIN

They come from a land across the sea,

A place most of us will never see.

On the outside, a world has a face so green,

In its heart fear and anger much to mean.

So beautiful it is but very hard to understand,

How or why there could be so much blood on their hands.

Out of this struggle, four men emerged,

From their home called Ireland with something to say.

As Bono, he’s known with his voice to the world,

A message he sends through the music made, heard.

While on the stage not a dancer is he,

From his heart speak the words of a man,

Whose seen with his eyes the pain in our world not meant to be.

What his music has given to his band and himself,

To the world, he gives back showing his feelings and

Care for humanity with a bit of his wealth.

They’ve been around for many years,

To try and shed some of the world’s tears. U2

Keith Garrett