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.
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