Friday Poems: Where the Sidewalk Ends

Today I'm in the mood for a classic children's poem (and poet) after the time I spent with the Noodle yesterday. I forgot to mention my visit to the most awesome Hicklebee's. Not only do they boast a resourceful staff and welcoming environment (a bathtub filled with pillows for weary parents), but they have the most colorful restroom with drawings and notes from many authors and illustrators.

hopskotch instructions left by a littler Jessica 
dated July 4th, discovered by a bigger Jessica yesterday

Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein

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.