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                   

                       " THEY WERE DIFFERENT"


  He walked down the street full of laughter and fun,


  He was poor with no money but no worries had he.


  She was from a different world, of money and 
  Material things,

  A young woman with everything but she had nothing.


  He was free with dreams' that were possibly only dreams',


   What he wanted was only to be, what he wanted was she.


   She was art, dance, and culture passed on by a family,


   What she wanted was to be set free, treasure was not 
  just money.

  He appeared as a man whose clothing meant he had 
  No worth,

  But what Is the worth of a well dressed man with no 
  Integrity.

  They were different she and he, drawn together by feelings',


  The heart, the eyes, the touch of man to woman and 
  Woman to man.

  They were different but they were the same, walking 
  Hand in hand,

  With what's love and pain.


                              Keith Garrett

                       ON THIS MOUNTAIN


  As a child, he lived here many years before,


  The great depression was not a time of all 
  Pleasant things.

  It was however, a time of childhoods, a sunset 
  For some,

  There was a family of fathers and mothers, sons 
  And daughters.

  A boy he was of seventeen, a dreamer, a writer,


  He had nothing, but he had also, everything.


   On this mountain in Virginia, he was born,


   So many days ago, long gone are they now.


  He wrote his many thoughts, by a lamp in the night,


  Played games with his brothers and sisters.


  This family sat together for dinner each night,


   A lifetime ago, is when this story was told.


   By a boy, who with his family, struggled, but


   Did laugh as they were blessed with much love


  And togetherness,   


  On this mountain, once upon a time.

           Keith Garrett

                OVER THE RAINBOW


   Where dreams await those who wish,


   Fantasies come to life, a heart does not ache.


  The magic of possibilities are a reach away,


  Hurtful things have not a place to play.


  Where beautiful things can not be destroyed,


   Birds of blue, fly, they sing in the sky.


  nothing to make you cry, beyond a rainbow up 
  So high,

   The trees are filed with a fruit so sweet.


  Over the rainbow, where all things imagined, may 
  Come true,

  Thoughts of love and hope are clearly understood


   But heard of once before,


  Might there be such a place, where these things can 
  Come true?
        Keith Garrett

                             SUNRISE


  Darkness disappears' as day comes to life,


  Footsteps of mine traveling the morning light.


  The fog begins' to lift, showing the beauty of God,


  I walk this way with hope by my side.


  Quiet as It's early fore sleep still lingers,'


  On the move are these legs, tired, forever tired.


  Rays of light shine through the distant clouds,


  Sunrise has a story for a man roaming alone.


  Everything has changed as the days' seem the same,


  A song, he sings' a song In my ear always heard.


  My favorite music from the man from Jersey,


  Sunrise, sweet sunrise, each day my journey.


                          Keith Garrett  

            CRY BY THE LIGHT OF THE NIGHT!


  When there's nothing left, only those who 
  Are of destruction,

  They live, but they are without a soul, a heart, 
  Any love connection.

  Hunt we do for food, water gathered by the 
  Riverside, I cry,

  How for personal gain and greed can it all be 
  Thrown away?

  We run from the day, dodge by the dark of an 
  Endless night,

  Sleep is rare, with an eye open, weapons are to 
  Be a trusted friend.

  There's no time being afraid when you're running 
  For your life,

  The thought of what's right or wrong lives in your 
  Weary minds.

  Cry by the light of the night! run in the darkness, 
  Seek daylight,

  The battle may be strong, the war will end, I'll be 
  With you again.
                            Keith Garrett

                             A WALK IN THE FOREST


  The time is now, Autumn is alive with a different 
  Feeling,

  Darkness is longer in the morning, slowly the leaves
  Are upon the ground.

  Plants and trees grow slower, nature never gives up 
  On the day,

  Animals are busy preparing as Winter is not far away, 
  Earlier the sun fades.

  A thought of a walk in the forest to escape for a moment, 
  Everything,

  Tall trees that cover much of the sunlight that warms 
  The land we wander.

  Leaves that have piled for many years make a sound 
  Beneath these traveling feet,

  A walk in the forest, so many times I have dreamed of this 
  While trapped elsewhere.

  Quiet, yet not quiet as there are sounds in a place as this 
  Like there are no other,

  A walk in the forest, a dream that I have not yet discovered, 
  A reality discovered.
                              Keith Garrett

                           A WESTERN SCENE


  They stood alone but together, gunfighters 
  So mean,


  A battle on a dirty street, a ghost town today, 
  Of memories.


  A western scene where dance hall girls entertain 
  Gamblers so drunk,


  Outlaws who do rob and kill will one day have their 
  .Walk to the gallows.


  There is a ranch out beyond where a town sits, cowboys 
  Who once rode,


  There was a time when laws were different, justice 
  Could be a swift act.


  Bounty hunters tracked down fugitives who escaped 
  And ran from the law,


  A western scene where a family worked hard for a farm, 
  For their dream.
                  Keith Garrett

                          A WALK IN THE FOREST


  The time is now, Autumn is alive with a different 
  Feeling,

  Darkness is longer in the morning, slowly the leaves 
  Are upon the ground.

   Plants and trees grow slower, nature never gives 
  Up on the day,

  Animals are busy preparing as Winter is not far away, 
  .Earlier the sun fades.

  A thought of a walk in the forest to escape for a moment, 
  Everything,

  Tall trees that cover much of the sunlight that warms 
  The land we wander.

   Leaves that have piled for many years make a sound 
  Beneath these traveling feet,

  A walk in the forest, so many times I have dreamed of this 
  While trapped elsewhere.

  Quiet, yet not quiet as there are sounds in a place as this 
  Like there are no other,

  A walk in the forest, a dream that I have not yet discovered, 
  A reality discovered.
                               Keith Garrett