It doesn't matter how old he is; he wears his age well.
When he makes tea, he makes tea; when he washes the dishes,
he does so fully.
He has his habits, but he is not burdened by them --
they are merely comfortable clothes that serve their purpose.
There is always the capacity for surprise; he's seen a thing or two,
and his educated guesses are very good, but he realizes
that you can never truly know anything, and he is comfortable with that.
He sees people as people first, everything else second.
He is aware of the reality that whoever speaks to him wants something,
and he is not resentful of this: desire is a natural thing,
even when it drives people to unnatural, destructive behavior.
He is happy to provide what is demanded, as long as it is his to give.
Complication is something he can navigate by cutting through to the simple realities,
though he is aware how everything can be colored and subsumed
by their relationships.
He is appreciative of the smallest things.
The way the sunlight hits the leaves,
the curves of his lover's back,
the timing of tension's release,
the clockwork tick of a good story.
He wakes up the same way he goes to bed,
quietly, simply, with contentment purring in his heart
even through the noise and chaos of the world around him.
He is not perfect by any means,
but he is flawless in his imperfection.
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