Poet 11586

Virtue street

Emergency call
drives us this way
we power red metal
speedier than most
onto a cul-de-sac
not a firecall this time
smoldering knowledge
stolidifying in the road
chills on outwardness
as it awaits our arrival
this parkdale deadend
entering my memory
we follow upstairs
and find your find
days past breath
awed composed
you see not me
only your father
two decades after I couldn't
throw that chess match his way
unwilling to deliver the obvious
despite a gentle urging daughter
there's so much I want to say
to a fine unchanged beauty
now that I am here again
Damn, I wish this place
had no planet ironies
in your flower bed