Worst day of my life

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.

In the poem Where the Sidewalk Ends, author Shel Silverstein is essentially suggesting that there is a magical place that children know of "where the sidewalk ends." That place represents childhood, its innocence, and its fundamentally different way of looking at the world. Or as I like to think of it, a poem that helps you see the good in the bad.

That’s why I think of this poem when I’m in a time of need, to see greatness in something like a disaster. To see happiness in something sad. Even in this blue and green world, covered up by smoke, we can find clouds in smoke, water in oil, and a garbage rain forest. The worst day of my life was when a fractured my elbow. A green cage wrapping around my pale arm. Now even though I have a healed arm, my heart and my brain will forever remain fractured. But when I think of that poem, that green cast is like every thing else, a natural thing, cursed from something not natural. And on my way, to finally be at peace. I will think.                            Were the sidewalk ends

                                                             Always here for you, 🙃