The Caves of Monte Cristo

Come with me,
up these old stairs,
to the door, thick and forbidding,
always closed

but never locked.
Eager for company,
to show it’s treasures
to anyone

with a sense of adventure, anyone
who has the courage
to take the short journey
off the main road.

Come with me,
take my hand,
listen to my poems
and broken songs,

dance with me
in this room,
half theatre, half madhouse,
half boudoir or church,

always welcoming,
full of raging passion
and color, of jewels left in the open.
Yours for the taking

if only
you can believe
no monsters live here,
that beyond this dour door

is a palace, not a prison.
That it is safe.
That love lives here.
afraid perhaps,

but unlocked.
Waiting.
More tentative
than it appears.

Come with me.

About this poem

We live ordinary lives. But the love we harbour, wish for, yearn for, is rarely ordinary. The title makes no sense, unless you have read my favorite novel of all time, The Count of Monte Christo by Alexander Dumas. Then it all falls into place.

The picture was taken at Hubbard Hall, in Cambridge, NY.

Tom