Jack, the wielder of magic so bright,
In the quiet of day and the stillness of night.
Not just a wizard of might and of lore,
His heart held much mystery, and perhaps something more.

With a wink of an eye and a flick of his wrist,
He’d conjure the mists or summon a mist.
In whispers of leaves, in the rustle of trees,
His powers would dance on the wanderer's breeze.

In shadows he dwelled, but never alone,
For Jack’s true magic was never on loan.
He spread it in kindness and laughter anew,
Creating a world rich and renewed.