Little boat,
Simple oath:
A keeping onward on.
Little child,
Simply wild,
An officer begun.
Born into the dangling of Coppers strictly strung
All about the padding and the layers over lungs.

Little push,
From the tush,
Some buoyant floating fun.
Little known,
Hardly home
Till tug-lines tugging none
Lose the lanes, lurch backward and stumble on the run.
Look around, hold swaying ground, just stay within the sun!

Little leagues,
Cresting waves,
And arcs in repetitions.
Up and down,
In circles found
Never-ending premonitions:
In casting off, the shore is gone, the anchor soft and silly.
Though, timeless now, these curves will tell how home-wards off the lily.

Little sailor,
Tinker, take her
Writhing, sun-kissed, sung.
Did you know,
This uniform
Is doubling her tongue?
Regatta left the harbor long before the map was read,
Before color, stroke and symbol could be questioned, still she said:

"Little heart,
From the start,
My course was mapped to you.
First, my Mate,
Chart the wait,
I'm building the finest crew.
And on my grand adventure, though the fathomed depths will scar,
By Dot the lines are traced and lo! your name is carved radar."