Forty Years

These forty years! And forty years ago
You waited for me, day after weary day.
Then lived I but in you; now you in me
Live — a desire, a need, a memory.

And wait you now again, in the unapparent
And silent or but angel-winged air?
Wait you even now for me, to ease you again,
Mother, of a longing, of a fear and pain?
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