Yearning

When the time for parting was near,

I and she strolled along the Yellow River.

My heart trembled with unease.

Finally, I mustered the courage

To open my heart to her.

From then on,

Whenever I saw her again,

There was a little more shyness,

And a little less ease.

Last night, I dreamed of her again.

It was at a gathering,

With many familiar faces from back then.

She, the one I cared for most,

Held a bundle of ropes,

Her face beaming with a radiant smile.

I deliberately asked with this topic:

“What made you think of bringing so many ropes?”

She leaned closer,

Wearing her signature smile,

And replied,

“I’ve been preparing for this for a long time.”

Suddenly, a warmth surged in my heart.

Ten years after we parted, I went on a business trip to the northeast,

The very city where she lived.

It was winter, and in the hotel,

She came to see me.

It was just the two of us.

We talked,

About our lives since we parted,

About our children.

Suddenly, the power went out,

Plunging the room into darkness.

We sat in silence.

After a long pause, she said,

“I once thought of moving to the south where you are.”

I murmured with a sigh,

“Too bad it wasn’t meant to be.”

In the decades that followed,

We met again a few times at gatherings.

Like everyone else,

We called each other by name,

Shook hands.

But there was always something missing,

A lack of ease.

The heart wished to draw near,

But the feet dared not move closer.

The eyes always lingered on her from afar.

Most often, we met in dreams.

Still learning together,

Always at the point of parting,

There would always be that fleeting glance,

And my heart would tremble again.

Is this yearning?

Is this yearning sweet or bitter?

Who can say for sure?