Pimp me...

she pimps the poems
like poets never could
she brushes the letters
one by one

over here shoulder she always
writes forwards
no syllabe untouched
not a phrases undisturbed

written in style between capital’s
does she give the words meaning
if books could see here
stroll from left to right

then we, but little writers that we are
how can we ever compare,
the unknown sentences

Silver is here name
she writes poetry,
like fairies do





Werner