She tells me

Apparently, I was a naughty boy At three, Disappearing in a shopping centre, Lost for what felt like hours. Legend has it, The infant siren song caught air-conditioned wind And led the search party to a curtained grotto. She tells me, there, they found My talent on display, A song and dance before a giant mirror, While curious stranger neighbours Changed their clothes. I don’t believe the myth, I had no talent then and precious little now, I think. But it sure sounds fun. Rumour has it, the best days are behind us. Though my young’un’s on her way into legend now. Loves that tale.