I sculpt, not clay or steel, but hair.
You scoff, but it is an art.
I sit, for hours, in my chair,
With no compensation, just heart.
I compose something to make someone beautiful,
And I hope she'll adore it in turn.
A part of me feels this is dutiful,
Yet hopes audiences watch and learn.
There was only one Anne Miller,
And she left us before her time.
Her beauty was a killer,
And her tapping was sublime.
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