Fred Astaire

a poem I wrote years ago shortly after he died

Your elegance has made you framed
Your dances left others Maimed
You danced with starlets
That popped out the eye sockets
Such as Rogers, Hayworth, Powelll
And almost every other Hollywood belle
Even when it your movies bomb
You have the audience eating out of your palm
For Your dances are successes
That only modern dancers can match in their wishes
I can’t believe that someone said
About you, Fred
Can’t act, can’t sing, can dance a little
No one will ever be your equal