My mother would dance sometimes
Believing herself alone
But through a slightly open door
I would watch her as she turned
Turned round, round,
Briefly unbound

My mother played and sang sometimes
Believing herself alone
But through a slightly open door
I could see her face upturned
Songs long learned
So long untuned

I was her only audience
She believes herself alone
My applause should have been rapturous
But I close the door
And turned, turned away