Forty-year old men have grace unseen in younger men, however fine. Their depth of voice and solid stance shivers my spine. With shoulders for children and eyes for business, tortoise shell glasses for slight correction, they give and also take direction. Aware that stamina won’t trump skill they accept the limits of their will. They’re fathers, lovers, friends of substance with minds like rooms, ideas abundant neither peace nor conflict rocks their stride. They step out boldly or move aside. I could watch, enjoy them by the hour, those thickened backs and thighs of power. I love their jaws with new grown stubble their easy way approaching trouble. I sigh remembering a lover - forty years in the making - one afternoon in the taking.