Why didn’t I age a little faster

While in your prime I had no clue then, what I’d be asking

How your birth came just years after prohibition

You probably told me time and again of your rise in habitation

The work you put in made your body a wall of bricks

But my ignorance was far from bliss

Your sleeping stories have a magic passion
I could beg and dig in illusion to hear more

Piece back every one of your ashes
to lend an ear with my heart open
to be in your presence and listen to your folklore