Potiphar's wife the young Joseph did want/and so all her wiles before him did she flaunt/But Joseph resisted and her plans did fail/so in hellish fury she cast him in jail/Virtue is often rewarded that way/so only the brave with much godliness play.
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the day is sold to rain/the rain that never ceases/the kind of rain, in fact/that gives my forehead creases/as if the sun a myth/had never showed its faces/to any single man/or to the human races/but I will persevere/in thinking sunlight loyal/that it will soon come back/and my depression spoil.
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the last poem is finished/my life's work complete/I've jumped all the hurdles/and stymied defeat/now I lay back/with my laurels and chips/collecting rewards/and concocting new dips.
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