To the bow, clipped on fast,
hanks off now, numb fingers fiddle.
Let fly that halliard, let fly,
crumple down to engulf me.

Push it down, pack it away,
out of the bag and onto the stay.
Bowline tight, get it up quick,
and then it flies, my sturdy sail.

Sail sail away from that shore,
leave that life behind.
The future's on the horizon,
little sweet one, your future's gonna be fine.

Claudia Fitzgerald

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-m-not-afraid-of-storms-for-i-m-learning-to-sail-my-ship-louisa-may-alcott/