ACROSS THE SKY


  I soar through the air, up In the wide open sky,



  Just myself and some wings', we fly and fly.



  So peaceful up here, quiet without many a sound,



  Feel like I'm flying to the sun, far from the ground.



  Clouds' are floating to nowhere that I can see,



  A never ending flight, just the sky and me.



   Looking down Is another world, not like here,



   Across the sky, not crowded with fear.


                              Keith Garrett                

               A WORLD OF TIME


   From the hands of time to the international 
  Dateline,

  We take our time from Greenwich, the hourglass 
  Is our sand of time.

  Wrist watches, stop watches, twelve months in a year,


  Fifty two weeks, three hundred and sixty five days.


  Twenty four hours to our day, is it long enough to 
  Live and play,

  Minutes disappear, seasons tick away.


   We work about eight hours with what we do,


   Forty hours a week, we're never through.


   Maybe two days off, forty eight hours to rest,


   Only so much time to love and visit with anyone.


   Time to feed the kids, time to feed the dog,


   Not enough time to stay young, awake and start 
  The clock,

  A world of time, always on the mind.


                      Keith Garrett

                                  ADRIFT AT SEA


  No memory have i of how this came to be,


  Lost and alone, just me and the sea.


  Day after day, across endless water,


  Above only the sky and the seagulls that fly.


  Get by do i with only little water and food,


  Maybe a hope and a prayer that it may get me 
  Through.

  In the distance, perhaps a dolphin or whale,


  My imagination is running wild.


  Thinking of what's below me scares me some,


  Loneliness is worse fore nobody listens.


  A dream am I having or my personal hell,


  Until the end of this, i'll not be able to tell.


  Up ahead, what is it that I see,


 My hope and prayer is answered to me,


  No longer will I be, adrift at sea.

                               Keith Garrett                                             

                   A PIECE OF YOUR LIFE


   Amesbury, Massachusetts, a time long ago,


  You were once so full of life, a young woman 
  With dreams.

  Seasons of four, between  warm Summer months 
  And the snow,

  Your lovely smile, energy as only a young person 
  Would know.

  A time before there were no children, a teen of 
  The fifties,

  Rock 'N roll, Chuck Berry and Elvis, drive-in movies, 
  A young love.

  Who watched you run under the Summer sun, with 
  Whom did you run?

  What was it like to be only seventeen, dancing within 
 ? A dream

  Out on a Saturday night, convertible cars, a hamburger 
  Under the stars,

  Did the boys chase you as you would run with such a giggle, 
  Was this you?

  Your name was Barbara Jean, friends and high school back 
  In the fifties,

  A piece of your life, before you became a mother and a wife, 
  Your life.
                            Keith Garrett

                        AND THEN THERE WERE NONE



  A fight for survival, mans quest for power to rule,



  Fear and ignorance but money will be the tool.



  Inventors of destruction, builders of a  force,



  The enemy is our brother, traitor to the land.



   Which side are we on, who is on our side,



   Conflict and hatred, how many must have to die?



   And then there were none, not much left to say,



   Put the bombs away, we may have another day.


                          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 SUMMER NIGHT



  When the sun goes down and the heat of day fades,


  A quiet visits the night, crickets are alive, yet not in sight.


  Darkness has a certain fee, peaceful is my thought,
  

While many living things drift off to sleep, day begins too.


  Stars so bright, hanging in stillness beyond what is sky,


  The moon shows its light,  high above, it watches always,


   A Summer night has its own beauty, till mornings light.


                        Keith Garrett

                               A SIMPLE DAY



  Wake up to a mixture of clouds and sun,



  Feed the birds and squirrels, it's morning now.



  A cup of coffee, no caffeine for me, a quiet thought,



  The world is much to fast, faster than what I have come
  To be.


  I can now get things done, the way I want it to be for me.



  A simple day in the rain or sun, I have some time to have 
  some fun.


  At the computer, my thoughts are given out to the world.



  A simple day, nothing gets in my way, I can keep to myself,



  A movie, a show, exercise that keeps me healthy and ready 
  To go.

                          Keith Garrett

                        A SMALL HOUSE


  Along the banks of a river, is home,


  Apple trees and hills of grass live here.


  A small house for a family of people,


  Food on the table and a fire burning warm.


  Sitting on the porch, a fiddle in hand I am,


 A pipe to smoke is an evening kind of thing.


  Horses are down for the night, children in our sight,


  Nineteenth century life is quite a fight.


  A small house is all we need to believe,


  Hopes and dreams are seen as far as our eyes can see.

                            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 set, 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