We all are cards of single deck,
Some are red, some are black.
Spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds,
all are gambled in this wreck.
Everyone is fighting for their worth,
there lies a card - quiet and mirth.
Used as a vacant mould,
Joker it is called.
Uncolored but unique,
Often a wild card but still mystique.
Unvalued until it's game of Euchre,
Valued only for lucre,
In world where all are playing games of sentiments,
Can a joker ever live with elegance?