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           

                                 VOICES


  Around us, we hear those who speak,
  Words and phrases to others' who will hear.


  So many different tones from mouths each day,
  Softly spoken or In a deep mean way.


  Talking a lot Is a way for some,
  Fast and unclear Is another way too.


 We hear many voices as we spend our day,
 Talking about their lives and crying about their pain.


  Voices are heard singing songs,
  Which makes us happy and brings our emotions 
  Outside.

  On the phone, there are voices, to us spoken words,
  We can't even see them but still they are heard.


  Without voices, we will not be heard,
   If we are not heard, then there Is silence.


                              Keith Garrett  

                                "JUST AN ECHO"


  If you listen carefully your memories can be heard,


  Words' and phrases spoken or listened too are recorded.


  Thoughts' In your head feel at times louder, just an echo,


 Sounds' and scenes from a lifetime played over, can you 
 hear?

  Noises from children playing, back when just a child, 
  Just a child,

  Friends' from long ago just an echo In time, listen, they 
  Can be heard.

  In the span of a lifetime, like the wind moving by, created 
  In an instance,

  An echo In time we will be, just an echo In time for you
  And me.

                                Keith Garrett                                       

                                   " MAGIC"


  Wizards with wands or magical dust,


  Four leaf clovers and a seven showing, always 
  On two dice.

  Witches and warlocks, wishes or rainbows,


 Do dreams come true, there are stars and moons.


 Do unicorns exist, are there spirits In the mist,


  Is magic a fantasy, what you feel are prayers that 
  Are real.

  Magic lives In the heart, It Is a wanting hope for 
  All that you feel,

  All you hope will be real.


                                              Keith Garrett

                          FOLLOW THE RIVER


  Watching the water as It flows' down stream,


  I walk Its' path on either side.


  As the river turns,' swaying from side, to side,


 The rushing water crashes and throws' Itself at me


  As I make my way along.


  On my journey past trees and hills,'


  Notice do I the bright sun and big white clouds' 
  Passing me by.

  Follow, follow the river on a course chosen by Itself,


 Onward, downward until such a place where the water 
  Lies still.

  I follow the river to a resting spot,


  Now It Is time for this soul to sleep.


                                             Keith Garrett

                    HE HAD A DREAM!


  He used to be, he walked as a man,
  Growing up as a child, harder than one could 
  Have imagined,


  With strength and courage he stood for the fight,
  So many against him as he marched for what's 
  Right,=.


  At times so scary to speak what you believe,
  Most just complain, oh! not he.



  It took a demon, the devil In disguise,
  To take from him what he told from Inside.



  He was once a boy but grew to become a man,
  To tell of his cause as he walked with the people
   Hand in hand.


  His name was Martin Luther King,
  He was not forgotten because of an Ignorant mans' 
  bullets' wring


  He had a dream, he was a man, his dream Is alive.


                              Keith Garrett