Where the side­walk ends

Isis Town and Country - - Opinion - 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.

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