1969


  I was a child in 1969, I had not a clue of the world,


  I knew of certain things, those of which I lived through.


  Riding my bike and a deadly Halloween night, that's right,


  I remember all that I did as a kid, a lifetime ago and a 
  Family.

  Vietnam was a reality and I was protected by my childish
  World,

  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, Clint Eastwood was 
  The man.

  Raindrops keep falling on my head, Simon and Garfunkel 
  Wewr grand,

  Scooby Doo and all of the colorful cartoons that I knew, I 
  Think of you.

  Baseball with the miracle mets, Bill Russell, and the 
  Champion  Celtics,

  Joe Namath with his Guarantee, the Jets beat the Colts,
  Charles Manson, and history.

  The Innocence of the Brady Bunch, walk on the moon, 
  Led Zeppelin, and a tune,

 1969 was the year when love and innocence were mixed 
 With  My day.

                                         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  

                                IN SEARCH OF


  In flight, searching for hope of a better today,



  Into the sun, across the wide open ocean below.



  The sky has many colors' today, look to the sky,



  Seagull soaring up so high, through the earths' window.



  Freedom to wander, to fly, why can't I fly up so high,



  Everything Is seeking In search of answers' of their own.



  As a bird In flight, a man walks' the road, 



  In search of his own Independence of where he belongs'.



                 "Keep searching"            Keith Garrett                           

                                      A MAN WITH AN AX

  Wood needs to be chopped, it sits waiting, many 
  Types and sizes,

  Fall is in the air, chillier the air turns, work must
  Be done.

  A job it is, to chop enough wood, to warm a home 
  For the Winter,

  Must be done, perhaps no fun as it is an 
  Accomplishment to be proud.

  Stack it in a pile, carry it piece by piece, chopped and 
  Split wood for a fire,

  A smell, can you take it in, smell the aroma as it's cut, 
  Stronger it grows.

  A man with an ax gets this job done, he sweats from
   Morning, Till the setting sun,

  Swinging an ax, working as the cold moves closer,


  The wood pile will rise higher.


  A man with an ax is strong and determined,


  He will succeed because he knows of its need,


  When it's done, a Winter of warmth,


  When the setting sun, he knows the job is done. 

                              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                

                              THEY ARE THE EAGLES'


  As they step on to the stage, these professional four,


  Play as they do, like never I've seen before.


  The lights' shine with colors,' around as they play,


  Their music so brilliant, out come the words'.


  Emotion and energy from the Instruments' they play,


  Songs' from these men touch the heart to this day.


  Don Henley by name, sings' from his soul,


  Back from the seventies, he never gets old.


  Glen Frey started It a long time ago,


  This band Is his, they go where he goes.


  Joe Walsh had his band before he became an Eagle,


  With his guitar and voice, he adds to this legend.


  Timothy B. Schmit the voice of quiet song,


  Along with a guitar makes this foursome completely 
  Round.

                                     Keith Garrett

                                THERE'S A PLACE



  Follow the road underneath a falling snow,



  Beyond the trees, the hills, there's a place I know.



  Peaceful to the ear, musical sounds of Winter,



 Trickles of water dripping down, Ice covered lake.



 The sky is full of snowflakes, soon touching the ground,



  Nature all around, it makes its own sound.



  Trees covered in white, there are no stars this night,



  The only thing of light is a fire made among the frigid
  Night.


  There's a place to hold in my thoughts, my place,



  It's far from here, so if you follow the road under a 
  Falling Snow,


  Then maybe you can call it your own.

                         Keith Garrett

                        THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD


  Through a twister, she journeys' across the sky,


  From her home In Kansas, she and her dog said 
  Goodbye.

  To fantasy from reality In a place she fell,


  Of tiny people, In this land where they dwelled.


  If home Is where she wanted then a walk she would 
  Take,

  Down a long road of yellow brick, to a city, she 
  Would make.

  Along the way three friends' she would meet,


  Searching for something, each one was unique.


  Till the end, they would fight a wicked soul,


  Conquer and receive what It was they were told.


  Click your heels' together, one, two, three,


  There's no place like home, back there she would be.


                                       Keith Garrett 

                                "TO BE REMEMBERED"

  What Is the worth of a man or woman, who will judge,

  We are born Into the world, this place we call Earth.

  Stranger's are we as to each other we first see,

  Becoming a family as we grow with the years.

  As an Individual, how do we judge ourselves In the 
  Mirror of time,
  A time to be born, and as the clock ticks we have
  Our day to be gone.
  Am I a good and decent man who shares a smile 
  With a stranger,
   A woman so kind and generous that her own pain 
  Is not shared.
  To be remembered by those who are loved In the 
  Greatest way,
  To know that In their heart's lives a place for you always.

  We came Into this world with no promises of everlasting 
  Friends,
  That special love was not given to us so that alone we 
  Could not live.
  Selfish are the ones who wish unhappiness to those that
  Are happy,
   Letting go or saying goodbye Is a gesture so kind of 
  The heart.
  To be remembered for a smile, a hug, or a listening ear, 
 
  To be judged Is not of any loved ones fore we judge
  Ourselves with
  The truth that rests In our heart and souls, 

 To be remembered Is to be good and decent, kind and 
  Generous,
  A good person, man to woman.

                                         Keith Garrett                                                

                                VISIONS'


  Waves crashing against the rocks, moving upon the sand,




  Beyond the horizon the sun going down, the sky Is a scene.




  Water of such a brilliant blue, foamy white, leading the way,




  Visions' of colors', visions' of memories come to life.




  Through the eyes are seen lively dreams', what Is made,




  The world Is a wonderful, colorful, memory some day.


                                            Keith Garrett