"A STRANGER"


  Cobwebs and tumbleweeds, traces of life and the past,


  A forgotten road not so often traveled, not anymore.


  Where do they go, the ones we once knew and walked 
  With,

  More and more they become ghosts, faded faces from 
  Yesterday.

  Time slips away slowly, Into my tomorrow, where my 
  Memories are found,

  Friends' are now strangers, strangers are now my friends.'

  There once lived a woman who I did not know, she lived 
  Her life without me.
           
  In her there was not a thought of me, for me she had no 
  Meaning,

  This stranger that I had not met would someday be the love 
  A man could not forget.

  Like the wind forever blowing, she has drifted, a stranger 
  I never knew,

  Where did you go,! where did you go,! A stranger I love, a 
  Woman I'll never know.

                                          Keith Garrett   

                               A WAND OF MAGIC

  In hand, a wand would make me a magic man,


   Not even a word and crime would disappear.


  I could stop time, rid the world of trash or pollution,


  Take away the sick waters of rivers and oceans.


  Murder on our land would be stopped with a hand,


  The ill would be no more, cancer but a memory.


  I could run fast or jump high,


  A tear would be one less for all of mankind.


  The cruel slaughter of creatures in the world,


  With a wave from my hand, this would end.


  A wand of magic, need not be that of evil,


   For love and good, the hand that holds this wand.


   A wand of magic is not to be real,


  We can wish, hope, and pray, that it all goes away.

               Keith Garrett                                                     

                         SINGERS OF A LOST TIME


  Chubby Checker had the peppermint twist,

  Chuck Berry sang out Maybelline.

  Jerry Lee Lewis screaming great balls of fire,

  It was Buddy Holly and Peggy Sue.

  Johnny Cash, his song walk the line,

  Elvis Presley belting out Jail house rock.

  Rick Nelson was the Travelin' man,

  The big bopper with his Chantilly Lace.

  Richie Valenz yelling out La, Bamba,

  Nancy Sinatra and a tune of boots.

  Petula Clark going downtown,

  Patsy Cline singing softly with crazy.

  Janis Joplin giving a piece of my heart,

  Grace Slick chasing white rabbit.

  Pat Boone echoing out April love,

  Little Richard pounding out long tall sally.

  Jim Morrison feeling rider on the storm,

  Jimmi Hendrix in a world of purple haze.

  Robert Plant on his stairway to heaven,

  Eric Clapton, after midnight or wonderful tonight.

  Singers of a lost time, they come to mind.

                            Keith Garrett 

                             A BEGGER, A THIEF


  He wanders the streets, a taste for food, a thirst 
  For drink,

  Cold to the bones, waiting for a warm place to sleep.


  Asking for that which comforts his pain,


  Pride and self respect are put aside.


  A human being, a man with a story,


  A begger today without any glory.


  Taking what he wants, no morals or remorse,


  Criminal thought's, a good man not.


  Working for nothing, he does not care,


   He steals anything, he has no heart.


  A thief many times over, a quitter of sorts,


  A begger, a thief, so many differences of course.


                                       Keith Garrett 

                           DO YOU   REMEMBER ?


              Back in time, many years ago on my mind,


             Drive-in movies as a child, riding your bike,


             Playing cards gave you the sound of a motor.


        Baseball cards and the wonderful world of Disney,


     Spiro-graph, collecting bottles for money, Bito- honey.


    When the Ice cream man drove by you lost your mind,


        Pinball machines, a five cent cone, cartoon shows.


  The wizard of Oz and Peter Pan, Sheriff John was the man,


     Bozo the clown and merry- go rounds, candy and gum.


  I recall the candy man, raindrops keep falling on my head,


  Ferris wheels, fireworks, and a Mcdonald's hamburger so fun,


  Playing with my long lost friends until the setting sun.

    Keith Garrett

                             FROM MY OWN EYES'


  There are many things' that I can see,
  The blue sky above and the light that the sun 
  Brings,




  I see those who wander all around,
  They have no home, they don't make a sound.





  I see those whom are only concerned with their own,
 They have not a care for others' around.






  The trees that I see move from the wind passing through,
   I see the birds' fly fore this they can do.






  What Is It I see when I'm looking at you,
   Is my future still to come, for us things' we may do.


                                           Keith Garrett 

                                 A PIECE OF YOUR LIFE


  Amesbury, Massachusetts, a time long ago,


  You were once so full of life, a young woman 
  With dreams.

  Seasons of four, between  warm Summer months 
  And the snow,

  Your lovely smile, energy as only a young person 
  Would know.

  A time before there were no children, a teen of 
  the fifties,
  Rock N' roll, Chuck Berry and Elvis, drive-in movies, 
  A toung love.

  Who watched you run under the Summer sun, with 
  Whom did you run,

  What was it like to be only seventeen, dancing 
  Within a dream.

  Out on a Saturday night, convertible cars, a hamburger 
  Under the stars,
  Did the boys chase you as you would run with such a
  Giggle, was this you?

  Your name was Barbara Jean, friends and high school 
  Back in the fifties,

  A piece of your life, before you became a mother and 
   A wife, your life.
                                 Keith Garrett

                              MYSTERY OF HER SONG

You're so vain.                Keith Garrett

                                        A CLOUD CHOSEN


  I travel along across the sky floating weightless,


  Down below there is you, recognize I do.


  Feel the wind blow through your hair, I am there,


  Call on me if ever you need from me anything.


  I rest on my cloud looking down on where I 
  Once stood,

  In your yard watching the birds fly in the sky.


 There are many clouds throughout time never 
  Ending,

  But it's this cloud, a cloud chosen for myself.


  A place to be alone, a place where dreams are real,


  The sun shines upon me, its warmth I feel, I can see


  Myself smile in the light.


  A friend that's true would do for another anything,


  If ever you need I will jump down off my cloud to be.

                                         Keith Garrett

                               STORIES ARE TOLD


  Traditions of story telling from thousands of years,


  Around campfires and in homes in times of old.


  Thought up from Imaginations or a small tale that 
  Grows,

  Fables told by a Grandfather to a child in countries 
  Of old.

  A bedtime adventure from a book to send you off to 
  Dream,

  Around the world many have listened, stories across 
  the sea.

  Stories are told that touch ones soul," listen child" they 
  Never grow too old,

  Generation to Generation, within cultures of different 
  Beliefs,  A tale that speaks
                                   Keith Garrett