There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the cars park across the curb,
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 car 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 right-of-way goes
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 right-of-way goes,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silvertein (with some modification)