Friday, December 18, 2015

Where the sidewalk ends

Suddenly and inexplicably attracted by poems recently. I never really believed that poems should be analysed / judged, which is probably why I didn't enjoy them as much in the past when they were treated as academic texts.
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.
--
Thinking about globetrotting, exploring God's beautiful creations, and seeing life from different perspectives makes me incredibly happy :) :) :)
A brainless post but a positive one nonetheless~~~ :) :) :)


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