Dinosaurs Don’t Cry

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The Dinosaurs weren’t all dead.

A few stuck around,
Lurking in murky swamps,
Grazing in lonely fields,
Or sitting on rocky cliffs,
Staring up at the stars.

The great herds splintered,
The fearsome packs disbanded,
The thunderous roars of Titans,
Few and far between.

The age of the Terrible Lizards,
A distant memory.

The Scaly Beasts,
Shoved to the Edge,
By modernity,
Forced to spend,
Their final days,
In exile,
From the land they once ruled.

The very land that had trembled under their feet,
That they’d blanketed with their shadows,
The land that’d provided leaves for their nests,
And food for their bellies.

Dinosaurs don’t cry,
But they do mourn.