Moved by an addiction to science fiction, former Boston Architect Frederick Winsor, 56, tried his hand at a new literary form: "space rhymes" for children and adults. The results, some of which appear in the current Atlantic, constitute a somewhat garbled tribute to the complexities of life, in or out of the nursery, in a mid-20th-century universe. A sample from The Space Child's Mother Goose:
Little Bo-Peep
Has lost her sheep.
The radar has failed to find them.
They'll all, face to face,
Meet in Parallel Space,
Preceding their leaders behind them.
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