The End of the Dino-fruit
Choose a piece of fruit, says Mum.
But it’s all wrinkly, I say.
And old, adds my brother. Like dinosaurs!
Then take a piece of dinosaur fruit, says Mum,
opening up the lunch bags.
Who wants an Applidocus?
Or a Bananiraptor?
I want a T-rex! says my brother.
Well, we haven’t got any today.
But we have some blood-thirsty Cherrydactyls
and a furious Peachiopteryx…
I want a T-rex, cries my brother.
What about some Grapienaptors – they’re fierce!
Or a Pearteritops?
Or an Orangiesaurus…rex – I say helpfully.
That’s not real! howls my brother.
Ok, says Mum, pass it over!
She peels and chops
and sticks it in the smoothie maker.
Press the button.
We’ll have a meteor!
But it’s all wrinkly, I say.
And old, adds my brother. Like dinosaurs!
Then take a piece of dinosaur fruit, says Mum,
opening up the lunch bags.
Who wants an Applidocus?
Or a Bananiraptor?
I want a T-rex! says my brother.
Well, we haven’t got any today.
But we have some blood-thirsty Cherrydactyls
and a furious Peachiopteryx…
I want a T-rex, cries my brother.
What about some Grapienaptors – they’re fierce!
Or a Pearteritops?
Or an Orangiesaurus…rex – I say helpfully.
That’s not real! howls my brother.
Ok, says Mum, pass it over!
She peels and chops
and sticks it in the smoothie maker.
Press the button.
We’ll have a meteor!
This poem is copyright (©) Rachel Burrows 2026
About the Writer
Rachel Burrows
Rachel is a mum and a teacher, but also a noticer of things. She loves standing still and absorbing - taking in the sounds, smells and secrets of our world. She has travelled far and is frequently found in pea-patches.
