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.
Do you remember those childhood days filled with Shel Silverstein poems? Such good childhood memories are connected with me sitting in the school library reading poems from Where the Sidewalk Ends. It takes me back to Eastern Elementary school, I haven't been there in almost 10 years and yet I can picture now exactly what the library looked like. A small, elongated room with books lining the walls and stacks in the middle. We used to gather on a mat near the back when our class needed to make a visit there. I remember bending down to find Where the Red Fern Grows, or scouring the shelves for an autobiography that sounded remotely interesting. I even remember doing my one and only theater audition in there during 6th grade (we did a play about letters from Iwo Jima that my principal had written....I read a letter). I also remember squirming around in the back of a group of my seated class mates when we were forced to watch an educational movie about microscopic bugs that are present in everyday life.....clearly it was scaring enough for me to remember. Sometimes I miss the innocent, lazy days of my youth when I didn't have as much to worry about and everyone was friends with everyone else, but then I remember wishing then that I was in high school or college, and laugh because it's true... "the grass is always greener on the other side."