This poem is to appreciate the beauty of simple, ordinary, normal things. A bagatelle is a small thing, something of little importance, a trifle. A demoiselle is a young lady. Vapid means lacking liveliness.

Fear not. The simple’s no beast. 

Appreciate the trifle, the tad and the bit.
The fortuneless, the ordinary, the nothings of wit.
Care about the underdogs, the lonely and poor.
Acknowledge the average as part of the tour.

Perk up, dear sweet passé bagatelle,
Deserted and lonely, a crumb of demoiselle,
Desiccated prune mocked as less worthy,
by those who unkindly, do not prefer thee.

Yes, you are shallow and vapid to some.
As a threat to no others, are you liken to none?
Our joy is in knowing the small we still see.
No danger to us, as you let the world be.

Let the worldly and wise have their just due,
Yet forging the lesser means forgetting them too.
The great and the small are part of it all.
So, sing a wee tribute, give the trifle a call.

There’s enough for each at this glorious feast.

Simply look both ways and mind the gaps.