My Sunday writing friend found a wonderfully written story about a child who tasted a bug and we used that as our prompt. Here's what resulted:
Often, while minding our own business
we are swallowed by a child
curious about how the world tastes
on a neophyte tongue,
only to be spit out when we wiggle,
impatient to be about adulthood,
too abrupt with our answers
to be taste-tested.
A pity. We might
learn a lot from a short sojourn
in the maw of an innocent,
might realize that, like a bug tasted,
we are spit out into a new world,
lucky to be wakened
from our self-important dreams.