Sunshine, mellow from the east, drifts through the kitchen window, warming my arms, encircling your little body. The pinewood table holds the fragments of our morning: coffee, melon, apple juice, pancakes, honey.  My head is bent to reach yours, your soft round cheek pressed against mine; I am held there, though my neck starts to ache. Eventually you lift your head away to take a drink of juice, filling one cheek with it then pressing the cheek with a finger, so that the sweetness splooshes through your mouth to the other side. The smile that beams from your face fills my own. Then you pull my head down, cheek to cheek once again.  The sun shines on your plate, drops of honey glowing amber.