The Ten of Clubs

The ten of clubs, The card of snubs. And always passed on by. For if you care, To see it there, You groan a little sigh The value place, But not the face, Of kings and queens and jacks. Yet still outranked, And not as thanked, Just slipping through the cracks. A diamond shines. The heart confines, A game upon it’s own. The pointed spade, Much like a blade, Is feared when it is thrown. But not the club, A rounded stub. A suit not as reviled. The ten of which, Has carved the niche, Of cards, the middle child.