Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
There are some friendships that never need introductions. They simply show up day after day, year after year, never asking for anything in return. For me, one of those old friends has always been a worn-out rocking chair sitting on my front porch.
Now before you start thinking I've finally lost what little mind I had left, hear me out. That old chair has probably spent more time with me than just about anyone else I know. It's been there through every season of my life. It has rocked with me on warm summer mornings while the coffee was still steaming in my cup. It has held me on cool autumn evenings when the leaves danced across the yard, painting the ground in shades of gold, orange, and crimson. It has been there to welcome the first snowfall of winter, when the world suddenly grows quiet and every tree seems wrapped in a blanket of peace. And it has watched spring breathe new life into everything once again, as bluebirds return to sing songs that somehow make you believe tomorrow will be all right.
That old chair has seen it all. It has listened to laughter that echoed across the porch and tears that never made a sound. It has been there on days when life couldn't have been better. And it has been there on days when I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through another sunset. Funny thing about a rocking chair... It never interrupts. It never judges. It never argues. It simply waits. Ready whenever you need it.
Over the years, that porch has become much more than a place attached to the front of my house. It has become my place of reasoning. A place where I sort through life's questions. A place where I wrestle with disappointment. A place where I thank God for blessings I didn't even notice until I slowed down long enough to see them. There have been mornings when I watched the sunrise and believed anything was possible. There have been evenings when I watched the sun disappear beyond the trees and wondered where time had gone. From that porch, I've watched children grow into adults. I've watched neighbors come and go. I've watched the world become louder, faster, and far more complicated than it ever needed to be. I've seen kindness become harder to find and anger become easier to share. I've watched technology bring people closer together while somehow pushing hearts farther apart. I've watched people spend fortunes chasing happiness. New cars. Bigger houses. Expensive vacations. The newest gadgets. Another promotion. Always believing the next purchase or the next accomplishment would finally bring them peace. Yet somehow, many of them still look exhausted. Still searching. Still wondering why contentment always seems just out of reach.
The funny part is... Some of the greatest peace I've ever known didn't cost much at all. It came from an old wooden porch. A weathered rocking chair. A hot cup of coffee. A cool morning breeze. The sound of birds welcoming another day. And a quiet conversation with God. Sometimes that's all a soul really needs. As I sit there rocking back and forth, I realize the chair has never actually been the hero of the story. The chair simply taught me to slow down long enough to notice life. To appreciate the sunrise instead of rushing past it. To hear the breeze instead of the noise. To count blessings instead of burdens. To remember that some prayers are answered quietly. The porch reminds me that life isn't measured by how fast we run. It's measured by the moments we choose not to hurry through. Maybe that's why I keep finding myself back in that same chair. It isn't because the chair is special. It's because of what happens while I'm sitting in it. My heart settles. My mind grows quiet. My worries seem a little smaller. My gratitude grows a little larger. And somehow, God always seems a little closer.
Maybe the world doesn't need another expensive solution to finding peace. Maybe it simply needs more front porches. More rocking chairs. More cups of coffee. More quiet conversations. More time spent watching the sun come up instead of staring at a screen.
People spend a lifetime searching for contentment in places that were never meant to provide it. They travel farther. Work harder. Spend more. Worry more. And still wonder why peace feels so far away. If they asked me where I found mine, I'd probably just smile, point toward that old porch, and say... "Pull up a chair." Sometimes the greatest treasures in life aren't hidden in distant places. Sometimes they've been waiting on the front porch all along.
Now before you start thinking I've finally lost what little mind I had left, hear me out. That old chair has probably spent more time with me than just about anyone else I know. It's been there through every season of my life. It has rocked with me on warm summer mornings while the coffee was still steaming in my cup. It has held me on cool autumn evenings when the leaves danced across the yard, painting the ground in shades of gold, orange, and crimson. It has been there to welcome the first snowfall of winter, when the world suddenly grows quiet and every tree seems wrapped in a blanket of peace. And it has watched spring breathe new life into everything once again, as bluebirds return to sing songs that somehow make you believe tomorrow will be all right.
That old chair has seen it all. It has listened to laughter that echoed across the porch and tears that never made a sound. It has been there on days when life couldn't have been better. And it has been there on days when I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through another sunset. Funny thing about a rocking chair... It never interrupts. It never judges. It never argues. It simply waits. Ready whenever you need it.
Over the years, that porch has become much more than a place attached to the front of my house. It has become my place of reasoning. A place where I sort through life's questions. A place where I wrestle with disappointment. A place where I thank God for blessings I didn't even notice until I slowed down long enough to see them. There have been mornings when I watched the sunrise and believed anything was possible. There have been evenings when I watched the sun disappear beyond the trees and wondered where time had gone. From that porch, I've watched children grow into adults. I've watched neighbors come and go. I've watched the world become louder, faster, and far more complicated than it ever needed to be. I've seen kindness become harder to find and anger become easier to share. I've watched technology bring people closer together while somehow pushing hearts farther apart. I've watched people spend fortunes chasing happiness. New cars. Bigger houses. Expensive vacations. The newest gadgets. Another promotion. Always believing the next purchase or the next accomplishment would finally bring them peace. Yet somehow, many of them still look exhausted. Still searching. Still wondering why contentment always seems just out of reach.
The funny part is... Some of the greatest peace I've ever known didn't cost much at all. It came from an old wooden porch. A weathered rocking chair. A hot cup of coffee. A cool morning breeze. The sound of birds welcoming another day. And a quiet conversation with God. Sometimes that's all a soul really needs. As I sit there rocking back and forth, I realize the chair has never actually been the hero of the story. The chair simply taught me to slow down long enough to notice life. To appreciate the sunrise instead of rushing past it. To hear the breeze instead of the noise. To count blessings instead of burdens. To remember that some prayers are answered quietly. The porch reminds me that life isn't measured by how fast we run. It's measured by the moments we choose not to hurry through. Maybe that's why I keep finding myself back in that same chair. It isn't because the chair is special. It's because of what happens while I'm sitting in it. My heart settles. My mind grows quiet. My worries seem a little smaller. My gratitude grows a little larger. And somehow, God always seems a little closer.
Maybe the world doesn't need another expensive solution to finding peace. Maybe it simply needs more front porches. More rocking chairs. More cups of coffee. More quiet conversations. More time spent watching the sun come up instead of staring at a screen.
People spend a lifetime searching for contentment in places that were never meant to provide it. They travel farther. Work harder. Spend more. Worry more. And still wonder why peace feels so far away. If they asked me where I found mine, I'd probably just smile, point toward that old porch, and say... "Pull up a chair." Sometimes the greatest treasures in life aren't hidden in distant places. Sometimes they've been waiting on the front porch all along.
