Echoes of the Mesozoic

In the dawn of time, when Earth was young, A colossal silhouette against the rising sun, The sauropod roamed, its footsteps thunderous, Leaving imprints in mud, a legacy wondrous.

Its neck stretched high, a verdant tower, Feeding on ancient ferns, hour after hour, A gentle giant, yet primeval in its grace, Navigating dense forests, a slow-paced chase.

The stegosaurus, armored and spiked, Surveyed the land with eyes ancient and wise, Its plated back a fortress against predators, A relic of epochs past, a living metaphor.

And what of the T-Rex, the apex predator? Sharp-toothed and fierce, a relentless competitor, Chasing down prey, its hunger insatiable, A dance of life and death, both inevitable.

Pterodactyls soared, wingspan vast, Gliding on thermals, glimpsing the past, Their screeches echoing through time’s veil, A symphony of flight, a prehistoric tale.

Now, in our modern age, we look to the sky, Wondering if their spirits still fly, In fossilized bones and museum halls, We honor these ancient beings, our awe never small.

So let us resurrect their memory, their might, Through ink and verse, in the fading light, For dinosaurs live on in our imagination, Roaring silently, eternal in their fascination.