A tale told by the teller to his grandchildren...

There I was children,
Just walking along on this bright white field,
Lookin’ for something to eat.
When all of a sudden something gigantic,
Comes down from above,
And seems to try to crush me,
Then something else picks me up,
And I next find myself in a lake of cold fresh water,
But it doesn’t remain fresh for long as a stream,
Flows from far above making bubbles on the surface,
And therein those bubbles I do hide,
Then a bigger “flush” of water does come ,
And down I go into a tunnel of dark water,
After that I know not where I ended my trip,
As when I opened my eyes I seemed floating,
With other inhabitants of this watery world,
I luckily found a wooden object to climb upon,
And dried my wings and eventually fluttered away,
So that is how I survived the great flood,
So now my children you must go to sleep,
And I will tell you a story of your uncle tomorrow,
The fly that met the spider & like me lived to tell about it…
© -me- 12/17/14