Monday, November 17, 2014

Poem of the Week

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.


This poem takes me to a place I have not been to in a while. My childhood. Whenever I observe children, I feel a sense of envy towards them. They have a pure innocence and outlook on the world. Everything is wonderful and peaceful. I think most of us have the tendency to get caught up in life. We all feel limited by society, our culture, our religion, or our obligations. These limitations make us feel as though we are restricted by actual confinements. But the place where the sidewalk ends is a place we can all be free. This is not a physical place, but a place of mental freedom. A place that allows us to view the world with no limitations, as if we are seeing the world through the eyes of an innocent child.  The poem encourages us to, every once in a while, step away from the dark sides of life and into our imagination, where “the sun burns crimson bright”.


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