Shel Silverstein

(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999 / Chicago/ Illinois)

Where The Sidewalk Ends - Poem 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.

Comments about Where The Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

  • Amanda Epps (10/23/2016 2:01:00 AM)

    I like this one too (Report) Reply

    20 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
  • (12/15/2015 12:01:00 AM)

    progress encroaching rural areas (Report) Reply

  • Kim Barney (3/5/2015 5:23:00 PM)

    This has long been a favorite poem of mine, but he has one called CROWDED TUB that I like even better:
    There too many kids in this tub.
    There are too many elbows to scrub.
    I just washed a behind
    That I'm sure wasn't mine;
    There are too many kids in this tub.
    (Report) Reply

  • (3/5/2015 11:58:00 AM)

    I get the feeling that this poem is about reverting back to childhood, which in most cases is a sweeter, happier, care free time - where kick-the-can is passed down from child to child - without the intervention of adulthood and the responsibility that so intensely mars life...... Of course the children will know where the sidewalk ends. The rest of us too often forget. These are things constantly on my mind also. Very good poem. (Report) Reply

  • (3/5/2015 4:59:00 AM)

    Lovely poem. Enjoyed the metaphor of side walk and street. (Report) Reply

  • (11/17/2012 10:05:00 PM)

    If only we could get off the cement path of life, and play as children, fully enjoying the brief time we have here, letting go of the hard-facts of life, and seeing the greener reality of the fact that it is short, so live it! ... and laugh, a lot... either way it's on it's way out, why not have fun, while you can. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010

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