Performance

We took the wrong turning off the M4,
Ended up going north
Instead of homeward,
With no time for mistakes.
It had to be my fault, of course.
You said watch for the exit,
I watched.
It didn't say north or south.
Long way round for a short cut.

Now we are late.
Late getting home,
(I didn't even go in the house)
My music and evening dress,
Still in the cleaner's plastic bag,
Handed into the car by Mum,
(She's going to give me hell, afterwards).
Trying to sort the music in the car,
Changing my shoes as you drive.
No chance to do my hair.
Late to the theatre, the show's started.
Getting into my dress
As I run up the stairs
To the wings by the stage.
I can see the audience.
I can see you in the chorus.
A smile of relief and exasperation.

I hear my cue,
Step out into the spotlight,
Trying to get enough breath.
I walk forward and smile at the conductor
(He will give me hell, afterwards).
Thank God I hit that first note right.