A tiny hand reaching just short toward peach collared comfort

Gentle demand and supply in the bare skinned quiet

A fair, tender touch

A squeeze and tug

A baby’s trust

Washing in stares and sunglow

The pat pat pat of that hand on breast

Giggles and gums

A full-bellied bond for both mother and child

Curtaining dark hair tangled around their faces

Coated in spilled orange juice and syrup

Small muffled gulps to top off a stomach filled with pancakes

A sliver of voice with each swallow

Soft focus wrapping them in warmth of the day start

And the tiny hand slips down

Lashes lay onto cheeks

And we are asleep