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.

I picked this as my favorite poem because this was the first poem that really got me into to poetry. After I read this poem and the rest of the book, Where the Sidewalk Ends, I went on a poetry loving phase putting so many poems on my wall. The first poem to go onto my wall was of course, “Where the Sidewalk Ends”.