Where The Sidewalk Ends: 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.

Did anyone else have to memorize this in elementary school?

I was reminded of this poem when I took a nice after-dark walk by the Alameda beach, and stopped to swing for a while. I went down a slide a few times and couldn't stop giggling.

It was dark, and softly warm. I thought of that 'peppermint wind' line, only in this case it was 'night-blooming jasmine wind', which I think is nicer anyway.

Good to get off the beaten path (of my life) and get lost on a swing set, and think about such important things as how high you can go, and how best to hop off without breaking an ankle.