On the streets of Hong Kong, we’d ride,

On bus 12A, with joy as our guide.

Grandpa's hand firm, Grandma’s laugh bright,

Our hearts felt at home; the world felt just right.

Through neon lights, past the bustling streets,

We’d reach Tsui Wah, where warmth meets.

Soda floats waited, creamy and cold,

A memory of youth that never grows old.

"Two floats, please," we'd always say,

Watching the ice cream melt away.

Fizzy bubbles and laughter would rise,

In the heart of the city, under bright skies.

Though time has passed, those moments stay,

Tsui Wah’s warmth still leads the way.