Gingerbean’s Moma

In the alleys and fields, through sun and through shade,
A mother and son, in unity swayed.
Gingerbean’s Moma, with her tabby grace,
And her ginger boy, always keeping pace.

They walked side by side, tails tightly twined,
A bond unbroken, in heart and in mind.
Together they roamed, a fierce, gentle pair,
In every step, love’s silent prayer.

She was the hunter, both swift and spry,
With Gingerbean watching, his bright yellow eye.
They’d chase after mice, a dance of delight,
Two shadows bound, in the soft moonlight.

Her coat, like autumn leaves, dappled and warm,
In her son’s company, through every storm.
She guided, she guarded, with a tender might,
Her presence a lantern, her spirit bright.

In whispers of dusk, and the dawn’s first beams,
She gave him courage, she gave him dreams.
A mother’s love, fierce and pure,
In every moment, steady and sure.

Now she rests, yet her spirit remains,
In Gingerbean’s heart, through joys and pains.
Though parted by fate, their souls still blend,
For love like theirs, it has no end.

So walk on, dear Gingerbean, in your mother’s stride,
With her spirit beside you, as your guide.