I'll never forget how Kindrea could dance. Almost since the moment she could walk.

When I close my eyes I can hear the delicate tap tap tap from her wooden toe point shoes, placing themselves, on that large wooden stage.

Long legs you wouldn't believe, black hair to her waist, and delicate hands with soft, white, long fingers. She was always a girls girl. Feminine, giddy, fashionable, popular and I might add always being courted by one boy or another.

You are new to me

Know the first pink tutu I ever wore sported the most beautiful silk bow on my lower back

That's the beginning of what was remembered and brought me here

Worked her points, at age, so hard daily toes that bled

Almost silent wood on air in my landing, she entered stage left and leaped

A miracle was born and it was extended from her hips down

Many years perfected her poise, steps and grace

In private jumping and screaming for joy endlessly

One morning, now the featuring act on the board

Held hope though terribly lonely stretching out in her pink silk sheets

When the phone rang, as usual fooled the world to believe wide awake in promise

Waking had became a naked solo whisper game

How many routines could she call out

Now interrupted

From the bell of somebody's cell

Acting breathless but chipper Hello came from her mouth

Only to be held from a stranger insulting the endorsement, her job now, in grave danger

The cell fell to the floor as she put her fist through the door

Mistake had to be it, such unprofessional hacks, disregard then, and for work as she packed