Trump should have sent Epstein a Hallmark Card,
For his reputation’s been further marred
By salacious hints at their derring-do
Inside the female figure Donald drew.

Though Trump denies what we all know he did,
A clear fact of which he cannot be rid,
His signature, classic, is big and bold.
Denial of truth is now getting old.

Let Hallmark compose some bland sentiments,
No exotic main dish, just condiments,
Like something simple, “You are quite a guy!”
Then, when you sign it, you won’t have to lie.

Little notes inside a card are OK.
“Felicitations on your happy day.”
No sexual references dripping with slime,
We might think you two were partners in crime.

So, next time someone’s birthday rolls around,
Send them a Hallmark Card, stay on firm ground.
No naked ladies, just some happy verse.
The card you sent Jeff made your problems worse.

Send simple poetry, no limericks, please!
For limericks often are suggestive sleaze,
No naked drawings alluding to sex,
That suggest your maturation defects.

Kids, party hats, cake, with candles aglow,
Not sordid secrets just you and Jeff know.
Shared misbehavior to which you allude,
Reveals concupiscence, showing you’re crude.