Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Shel Silverstein
Brandi and I went on a walk around our neighborhood today. Something we’ve never done. We found 3 random sidewalks and followed them each to where they end. I brought my camera just in case we find something fantastic. You never know. Well, the only thing extraordinary we came upon was the remains of a crayfish on a little bridge.
How utterly random. Poor little crayfish.
