there is a place
where the sidewalk ends
& before the street begins,
& there the grass grows
soft
&
white
& there the sun burns
crimson bright
& there the moon-bird rests
from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.
let us leave this place
where the smoke blows
black
& the
dark
street winds & bends.
past the pits
where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk
with a walk
that is
measured
&
slow
& watch where the
chalk white
arrows go
to the place
where the sidewalk ends.
yes we'll walk
with a walk
that is
measured
&
slow
& we'll go where the
chalk white
arrows go,
for the children, they mark,
& the children, they know
the place
where the sidewalk
ends.