Saur the Dinosaur

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