Something to set the mood
Until last night I didn’t have the metal railings for my bedframe. I had a couple roommates over the tenure at my last place, and one had left a nice queen sized bedframe. When my last roommate left, he didn’t take this furniture with him. John asked if he could take it for his son, and it was no loss to me so I gave it to him. When we were at John’s house we unloaded the bed frame, and in the suffle the metal pieces I needed mistakenly went with it. So this weekend I went out and got them, and also got to do a little city driving. Driving over the Bay and Golden Gate Bridges are amazing events when one experiences them for the first time. Although I’ve driven over them several times now, it still is an amazing feat of the human race to have such a structure. In this city, this q-tip shaped peninsula called San Francisco, we find endless glass, concrete and stone. As the 80 freeway takes you away, past Oakland’s metropolis, and into the rolling green hills that find themselves coming into spring bloom, there is a place all should remember. The reflection of the sun on a long winding road, up to the night’s bloom, I’d like to take you to 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.