These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Creaky Door

"You have arrived at your destination."
The old, baby blue truck got us there.
"Creak waaaah." The truck's old door sounds like my joints,
sitting under trees in days' stagnation.
To walk real fast, ask, "How? And where?"
Could be the hinges need oil's anointing?

Facade seems nice in bright orange shades.
I like one door. I like the walls.
The other door and window's weird,
like darkness, that never light obeyed.
Should I go in? What lurks in the halls?
The mystery whispers at all I've feared.

Methinks beyond the surface impressions.
What kind of people live inside?
The walls have crafted indentations.
I need to hurry to my counselor's sessions.
Unknown piques fears, that I can't hide,
but courage leaps at missed appointment's charge.

line count: 18
poetry form: iambic tetrameter sestets (with variations)
prompt number: 19 (February 19th, 2026)

by Jay O’Toole
on February 19th, 2026