Ode to Mamba and Mambacita
There's a quiet on the courts where once your sneakers squeaked,
Echoes of a game played with passion, not just technique.
Kobe, you were LA's golden son, with five rings so bright,
Playing with the ferocity of a purple and gold knight.
In the rafters, your jerseys hang, side by side they sway,
A father and daughter bound by the game, in the play.
Mamba, with the halo of a legend, soaring without fear,
Gianna, young wings clipped too soon, we hold that smile dear.
Your legacy, a crossover between grit and grace,
On the asphalt of heaven, you now find your place.
Staple's Center was your canvas, the hoop your crescent moon,
Together you dance, a duet to the stars' soft tune.
We wear your jerseys, hearts heavy with unplayed games,
LA Lakers, more than a team, it's a city with names.
Kobe and Gianna, in the heart of LA, you fly,
With wings unbound, haloed in the Californian sky.
