Evening wind gently brushes Penghu Bay; whites waves pursue sandy shore.
There is no coconut grove connecting setting sun; only one piece of blue blue sea.
Sitting on the low wall in front of the front door, over and over again I reminisce:
It was also at evening on the sandy shore, there were two and a half pairs' footprints.
That was grandmother holding a cane gently carrying me on the arm.
We stepped on the thin dusk and walked toward the remaining sunshine at the warm, warm Penghu Bay.
One footprint was a string of laughing words; we idled away a lot of time.
Till the color of night swallowed us on our way of returning home road.
Penghu Bay, Penghu Bay, grandmother's Penghu Bay.
It has my many childhood fantasies.
Sunshine, sandy beach, sea waves, cacti ...
As well as an old captain.