Good Night Jack Poem by Thomas Vaughan Jones

There's an angel with his head upon the pillow
and his face reflects the dreams inside his head.
He is thinking of a leather striking
willow and dispatched beyond
the boundaries of his bed.



Or perhaps he's in the soccer team for England.
He is listening to the adulatory roar,
of the crowd from near and far,
hailing Jack, the football star.
Every time he gets the ball, he's sure to score.



I look down upon a little boy who's sleeping,
and I gaze upon an innocence supreme.
Then I quietly dowse the light and I whisper
' Sweet goodnight '
And I slip away and leave him to his dream.