| Poem for |
[Mar. 28th, 2003|08:20 am] |
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.
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The Friday Five:
1. What was your most memorable moment from the last week?
Talking to my cousin Felicia who had just had a baby boy, her first child.
2. What one person touched your life this week?
My husband, whose birthday was Monday.
3. How have you helped someone this week?
I stopped one of my friends from doing something nasty to another. It's a small thing, but it could have been very ugly.
4. What one thing do you need to get done by this time next week?
I need to learn the Trek Nation database.
5. What one thing will you do over the next seven days to make your world a better place?
Clean my sons' bathroom.
And you will be relieved to know:
Stubble with a cause
So have a great birthday ![[info]](http://www.deadjournal.com:8080/userinfo.gif) ashinae! |
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