There is a place where the sanity ends
And before the silence begins,
And there the pillow is soft and white
And there remains of dinner burn crimson bright
And finally toddlers rest from their fight
To cry in their blankie-strewn beds.
Let us leave this kitchen where the smoke blows black
And the dark hallway winds and bends
Past the pits where the withering houseplants grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
And watch where the muddy-brown handprints go
To the place where the sanity ends.
Yes, we’ll walk with a walk that is heavy and slow
And we’ll go where the crayon-scribbled stick figures go
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sanity ends.
babyblurbs 