By Kieran Daly, aged 18

Call me your baby to the sweet taste

of oranges at the harbour.

The river bleeds crimson love.

Our hearts taste like red berries

smothered in honey and hazelnuts.

Potent kisses, like plums, Return –

I yearned for them in days gone by –

but now words taste sweet again

the Bluest oceans of ache dry.

Growth is our muse

and home is for two.

Merlot-stained lips, lilac dreams,

a monochromatic life without you

So, call me baby again.

Eat red berries at the shore

because with your tender skin next to mine

I’m colour-blind no more.