BACK TO YESTERDAY


  There was a place, many places of my yesterday,


  Far back in a place of snowy woods, a child so young.


  Superman, batman, bicycle, and a tree swing once was,


  Remembering the summer sun where a small boy would run.


  Back to yesterday, another town to roam around, I found,


  Headed for the future as my thoughts travel to a yesterday,


  As life and time move ahead, cobwebs are more where I began.


  I have moved, aged in a few different ways, tomorrow always 
  has a yesterday,

  My eyes open to a miracle morning, miracle being another day.

                                       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

                              BLUE JEANS


   Antique in time,  from the seventies, a pair so fine,



  I remember I put them away, blue Jeans for another day.



   A touch faded were they,  comfortable in a certain way,



   Worn were they to a party, perhaps a barbecue or two,



   A Saturday night drive-in, what jeans were worn by you?



   Blue jeans I took from a shelf,  dusty, aged from time, 



  They fit me once before, now I can wear them in my mind.

                                         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

  My name is Keith Garrett, I write poetry. 
  A lot of you have read it,
  I have it on flash drive and in many binders. 
  I would like to sell it,
  and publish it. who can help?

      Thank you,   Keith Garrett

                        MIGHT GOD BE A CHILD


  Never a picture of god, thoughts of a face like ours,


  As a child, as children did we wonder or believe more,


  The Innocence of a young mind holds fantasies of many.


  Playing in a kingdom just as a child plays in the park,


  Could this place be for a mysterious boys amusement 
  Or not?

   Might God be a child, Is this why we grow old and die,


   Possibly a magnificent little boy who created it all.


  When there was nothing, was there a who to think 
  There could be something,

   Might God be a child If so then how might this soul 
  Have been created?

  How did we go from nothing to something, was God 
  Born from nothing?

                                Keith Garrett

                       MAN ON A CORNER


  Watching the sun go down, his stare seemed 
  Beyond the sky,


  A child so young, from this corner he saw them 
  Light up the night.


  Run with your friends as the sun rises in the early 
  Morning light,


  I have seen a man on a corner since my days of 
  Chasing butterflies.


  Where is it that he goes, what thoughts clutter his 
  Mind on many days,


  He begins back in time when he too watched a 
  Man on a corner.


  Playing many childish games, we ran until the sun 
  Set in the sky,


  Today as the children play, it is I who becomes a 
  Man on a corner.
       Keith Garrett

                      THE DUSTY TRAIL


  Traveling through an untamed land, I travel,


  All that I own, packed upon my horse and wagon.


 There's a lot of quiet time, thinking and looking,


  As the day ends I set camp, a fire, supper, and my 
  Horse.

  Noises of the night are owls, crickets, or the wind,


  Lucky am I to hold this guitar in hand.


  Feed my horse and off to bed for a little rest,


  A gun close by as I sleep with an open eye.


  Just call me bob as when the sun rises I'll be gone,


  A hot cup of coffee, a bite to eat, and off I go.


  The dusty trail takes me to many places of sight,


  I travel by day then it's time to stop for a much wanted,
  Peaceful night.

                                Keith Garrett

               A CHANGING SEASON


  Leaves of red and green, leaves turning brown,


  Leaves falling all around, they fall and touch the 
  Ground.

  Floating on down, wherever I'm walking, raining leaves,


  Suddenly a gentle breeze, blowing leaves beyond the 
  Trees.

  Nights showing up sooner as the days become shorter,


  Temperatures are dropping as the warmth of day, earlier 
  Goes away.

   A changing season is constant and repeats itself with 

   The changing years,

   Beautiful become the emptying trees,  naked and alive 
  without their leaves.
   Slower does nature grow as soon getting ready to take 
  that deserved rest,

  The animals are beginning to collect and store for what's next.


  A changing season sets in motion a cycle of  never ending 
  Energy of life.
                                    Keith Garrett

                  A BOY NAMED PAUL


  I knew a boy by the name of Paul,

  He went away late Summer or Fall.

  When he was little he played in the snow,

  These things I remember from long ago.

  I think of the smile he had on his face,

  It fades from my memory, yet there's still a trace.

  When I think of him it reminds me,

  Of just how fragile this life can be.

  It makes me feel special for he came to me,

  Just a short time before life set him free.

 There was a boy by the name of Paul,

  He laughed and played but that's not all.

  He had a life of which I speak,

  Cut too short, it did not reach its peak.

  I'll think of him as you do,

  A soul in heaven, a part of you.

  For his mother, Father, and Sister.


                    Keith Garrett