Where the Sidewalk Ends

Ever since The Palouse Falls blog I've been thinking a lot about poetry. I was raised by an English teacher and when we were little she read to us every night. Shel Silverstein was one of my favorites. His poem ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends” has been in my head a lot lately, and I thought this photo adventure with Reilly was a good place to show a poem. So here goes…

"There is a place where the sidewalks 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 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