A poem for the reader's I don't have:
My baby teeth would recall
Smiles from daydreams ago
But they’ve left me
these old pearls in their place.
My feet would recall
twirling to folk music, in haste;
spilling from grandpa’s accordion,
to the life I thought would befall.
But I’ve left them, absentees,
this me in my place.
The disappointment, though
all my old parts would have never expected.
Or those smiles from daydreams ago.