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.

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts and
presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way
of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even the sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth
and you learn and you learn
with every goodbye you learn.

- Veronica A Shoffstall