A PICTURE OF YOU


  Plenty of times I saw you, watched as you changed,


  A portrait of a baby, many years ago as time 
  Has aged it.

  As a child, you appeared a certain way, young 
  At play,

  From twelve to seventeen, a face that went 
  Gifferent ways.

  Twenty was a special year, your first child, a boy 
  Named Gary,

  Seven children as the years went by, your picture 
  Changed.

  Beyond eighteen or twenty five, seasons changed in 
  Your eyes,

  Mom! I miss you, I think I can hear you when I sleep 
  In the night,

  A picture of you rests in my sight, a picture of you in 
  A book that I write.

                               Keith Garrett

                         A THANK, YOU DEAR LORD


  It's me again, many thoughts swirl in my head,


   For this life you gave to me, i am most grateful.


   I wake each morning to the rain or shine,


  You've let me walk your worldly creation, i'm still 
  Alive.

  I forget at times and also for granted take,


  This life is precious, there's much good in the world.


   A thank you dear lord for the things given to me,


  The wonders of this land at times are hard to see.


   I'll try to remember that fragile is man,


   Speak to you soon, I keep trying to understand and 
  Be the best I can.
                    Keith Garrett

                              A  LONER OF A MAN


  He saw the sun but when the sun went down,


  He wanted nothing more of that which was around.


  Heading for the great Colorado Rocky mountains 
  Said he,

  I will not be back until I see a land of eternity.


  A long time ago, this man not many would know,


  As for the few, he treated them with kindness, they 
  Would not forget.

  A loner of a man, no choice to but love and care, 
  An inherited family,

  Because he did help another kind, they took from 
  Him the love in his life.

  He wanted to be alone and he learned to care, again 
  Only pain and despair,

  A mountain man you see, he had a life, until life met 
  Eternity.
                              Keith Garrett

     WHAT I SAW IN MY YORBA LINDA HOME


  Remembering being a boy in our home, a story 
  To tell,

  Between nineteen seventy two and nineteen seventy 
  Seventy seven.

  I saw our house as it was being built, met some 
  Neighbors that year,

  We  moved in early May, Starting school was hard so   
  Late as it was.

  We were having our pool put in that Summer, I remember                       
  the heat,

  Those were the days of Saturday morning cartoons, 
  Worries so few.

  The Buggs bunny, roadrunner hour, our new home was 
  So cool,

  The TV guide, late night classic movies were a Summer   
  Delight.

  Seasons in the sun, Music of the seventies, my friends 
  And all of the fun,

  Sunday morning watching Wonderama, swimming in 
  Our pool.

  Weekends and Summers, nine children on the loose,


  I remember Mannix, Hawaii five o', the Sunday night 
  Mysteries.

  Reading mad magazines on the porch,  a coke in the    
  Hot sun,

  On the phone with friends, the early seventies were 
  A great time.

  Musical sounds that said the Icecream man was coming, 
  I remember,

  Fourth of July, Fireworks that lit up the night, what a sight,
  Back in time,

  My Yorba Linda home, back in nineteen seventy two, I 
  Remember you.
          Keith Garrett

               A HANDSHAKE AND YOUR WORD


  Does it still exist, is it real, remember a time when,


  From so long ago when you learned to trust a man.


  A handshake and your word was good enough for 
  The day,

  Times changed and a lot of  that got lost with a 
  Changing world.

  We became less of neighbors, keeping to ourselves, 
  Doors locked,

  Now it seems that a handshake comes after a signed 
  Piece of paper.

  Has its meaning become less, a firm handshake back 
  In time was the best,

  And your word, what is the worth of your word as you 
  Promised away.

  We trust less now just as it must be fore if we trust we 
  May get burned,

  Make sure there is a witness to a handshake and your 
  Word, be wary.

              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 

                               WITH CLOSED EYES


  Many things' are noticed when one can't see,


  Against our face the wind, or a bird chirping In 
  A tree.

  From the air, the sound of a plane soaring by,


  Thunderclaps as loud as a sonic boom.


  People laughing with each other, driving past,


  Dogs' barking In a near by yard as they're listened to.


  The sound of music heard through an open window,


  Two people In love saying goodbye at the door.


  There are many, many things, we notice with closed eyes,


  Not only the darkness thats' with us Inside.


  The mind will open at the time our eyes close,


  And see more than can be Imagined In this dark world.


                           Keith Garrett  

                      THESE THINGS I DREAM


  Within myself, thinking of  a place In another reality,




  What lies around me may be a different consciousness.




  This state of mind as I am not awake, floating, floating,




   I see a world like never have I Imagined before, I see.




  Visions' sent to my brain, pictures of stories past or future,




  These things' I dream, a mystery from an eternity.


                     Keith Garrett                

                           YEARBOOKS


  Forty six years old, dust and cobwebs, they
  Waited for me,

  These books I remember during my years at 
  A long ago school.

  Bernardo Yorba is where I made my journey on 
  An early morning cruise,

  When I saw those yearbooks, what memories 
  They brought to me.

  When I opened those yearbooks there was before
  My eyes, yesterday,

  Turning the pages showed me many ghosts of friends, 
  Images from the past.

  I picture them moving along across the school campus, 
  Laughing as once before,

  The sounds of those school days, I can hear in my head, 
  Looking through books.

  Action shots from our years at a school, Bernardo Yorba, 
  A little fun back then,

  Pictures of teachers, some are gone now, their voices 
  Echo through yearbooks.

         Keith Garrett

                            ZEPHYR


  Soft as a gentle kiss, a touch on the skin of a
  Memory in the wind,

  A soft breeze, a West wind blowing through 
  The trees, across the sea.

  Travels' through the years', not a face does It 
  Wear as it whispers,

  It can only be seen with eyes that dream, soft 
  As it speaks.

  It changes tides, moves past and around what 
  In nature exists,

  Night and day, It will go from here and there, 
  Place to place.

  It Is the Zephyr, has been since before the 
  Time of man,

  Energy without form, created by God In heaven, 
  When and how long ago.

  For It, no beginning, no ending as It howls' 
  Through time, not seen but why,

  Powerful, as It Is with no body or soul, why does 
  It know just where to go.

                             Keith Garrett