15 November 2012
My mother is a teacher, My father teaches, too, My father's father owned a boat, T'was painted white and blue.
My father used to sail it, With his father at the bow, The boat was 'The White Heather', But memories taught me how.
I asked if that was reasoning, My namesake or a hint, My name a colour on the helm, Splashed along wood splint.
My mother says she loves it, The ship aside, and so, And although I hate my name, I love its depth, I know.
It's My Name. • Opuss № I