I stand at the fence, seeing dinosaur heads and bodies in the early morning fog.
Paint flaking, and all of it falling in disrepair, but still proud, strong and majestic.
Something of wonder once. All the children love dinosaurs. All before the fall.
The fog is damp, and the air is chilled and clingy, to my clothes and my face.
Wild birds roost in a brontosaur’s broken eyes. A fox hides at it’s grey feet.
The trees and vines run wild, climbing on thick legs and bodies.
A kind of Eden, for lost kings who once ruled the world.
Now wild and unkempt, finding it’s own order.
I remember loving dinosaurs.