Silverstein said, where the sidewalk ends,
There’s white grass and peppermint winds,
Theres birds like the moon and a bright crimson sun,
Where the sidewalk ends,
But I’ve been to the place where the sidewalk ends,
And you know all that I found?
Nothing, the world just kept on going,
Past that patch of dusty ground.
There where no moon-birds, no peppermint wind,
No sun or snow white grass,
To describe it quite simply, the sidewalk just ended,
In concrete and broken glass.
When something ends, sometimes that’s it.
The earth continues to spin,
But out in the distance, another sidewalk will start,
Just keep walking until it begins.
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Oh it’s been too long! I’ve had the worst writer’s block, but I finally got over it. I love Shel Silverstein, don’t take this poem the wrong way. But is there really a wrong way to take poetry? I think a poem is like a mirror maze, what it looks like depends on how you go through it, and is always changing.
Good point and analogy and a good poem. Liked those last four lines.