I was sour at the time, so I named him-her, Saur
As I wasn't sure about its sexual bent
It was small enough for comfort on sand and floor
With too many teeth and no good risk of a dent
Had I named it, Saura, I would have been bothered
To reply to, why Saura, when Saur is soon grasped
This dinosaur was certainly never fathered
Whether its creator was masked or strangely rasped
It was colourful and mostly rubber-plastic
Unlike those in the movies and my waking dreams
Saur, a good dinosaur, not sandy or clastic
Was lost long ago, taken away on time's streams
About the Creator
Patrick M. Ohana
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
Keep reading
More stories from Patrick M. Ohana and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (2)
Oooo, time's streams. I really liked that!
Reminds me of a toy I had,