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

                                 GLIMMER MAN


  When he moves, it is that he can not be seen,


  Like a shadow that stays, not in the same place.


  He moves as the wind moves, never is he observed,


  Like time, Just as a ghost moves along without notice.


  A phantom, a spirit in the night, exists he does,


  If you become the prey, if seeking you becomes 
  Kis game.

  He will find you, not a soul can run from what can not 
  Be seen,

  He is the glimmer man, his job is to eliminate,


  Keep from being the hunted, he has a name and knows
  His game.

                                        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 HERO


 A hero is one who stands and fights,


  Gives that which he has to the one who 
  may die.

  For that which he believes, he'll surrender 
  His life,

 Take a bullet, jump in front of a car, and not hide.


  He'll do what it takes for family or friends,


  Walk into a fire, give a lung or a limb.


  He'll give of himself, although stricken with fear,


  Man or woman, heroes can be anywhere or anyone.


  A hero is one who will lay down his gun,


  Be there when crisis is upon us.


  A hero is made up of those who stand together,


  Whatever the battle, no matter the weather.


                            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 

                         I REMEMBER JACK


  He was a wanderer, a young man seeking peace,


  War tears many families apart, a mystery was Jack.


  Appeared did he on a roadside one day, I did change,


 Something strange about a man who came from the past.


  I remember a man named Jack who granted me a wish,


  I did not make that wish and Jack had to go far away,


  He made it for me as I saw him again one day.


 A much older me, I did not know happiness was for me,


  Jack died in nineteen forty four, long before I was born.

           Keith Garrett

                                    I AM A BEE!


  In the Spring and Summer, you'll find me around,


  Even In the Fall, I am found.


  Flying and buzzing, Is not the only thing that I do,


  My love for making honey, Is so very true.


  My quest Is not to sting, though my reputation Is this,


  Just like you, to survive and be left alone Is my wish.


  Many cousins,' to me In this world,


  Different are they, this I will say.


  They all slap at me, run away, and scream,


  If only I could laugh, then they would hear me.


  What frightens' them, I'm so small you see,


   I'm tiny, I'm fragile, I'm only a bee.


                                   Keith Garrett                               

                  FROM OUT OF MY WINDOW


 I gazed outside, at a bird on a limb,


 So many clouds, made my light very dim.


 The things I see, are not so new,


  From out of my window, a simple view.


  I stand here watching, as time goes by,


  I listen for the sound, I can hear nature cry.


  The wind passes by, through the trees It blows,


  Stare out at the night, watch as the moon glows.


  As day becomes night, and the night turns to day,


 Time does not stand still, but from out of my window,


  I see things my own way.


                                           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

                                      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 different 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 
  the night,

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

                                     Keith Garrett
     My mom, 1939- 2019