LAST THOUGHTS OF TYRANNOSAURUS REX AS HE WATCHES THE METEOR HURTLE TOWARD EARTH

by Fran LaPlaca

Death rushes toward me
as it has for days now.
When I die I shall miss
blue skies;
the roar of combat;
the hot taste of blood.
But mostly
the sweet scent of summer flowers in bloom.
Millennia hence,
when dinosaur-kind rises again,
as it will,
and they find my bones buried beneath the earth,
will they know
I had a sensitive soul?