The lady with big shoulders, Wendy Shy,
stepped forth from two huge boulders by and by.
She also had some massive clavicles---
massive as Jabberwock's, or any bull's.
You will not find their equal in anywhere
throughout the lands that maps place in between
the North and South of Earth's two tiltied poles;
in Pascagoula, Rome, or Aberdeen.
No wonder passersby should stop to stare.
It cannot be explained, though Occam's Razor
cut all the fluff and illogic away.
I think I have said all that I can say;
often a poet is a rhyming phraser.
Therefore, their subject will make these poems fly:
the lady with big shoulders, Wendy Shy.
Starward
[*/+/^]