The Cartwright Brothers, Three

At three AM I came awake;

My eye had spilled a tear.

A captured image from a dream

Had surely placed it there.

A tired, old man had made it home

To find himself alone.

He stood upon a quiet hill

And studied three headstones:

His brother, Hoss; his father, Ben;

And even Little Joe.

Too young, too soon, too far away-

Yet he'd had to let them go.

He bore a weight of might-have-been's,

And what-had-been, and more,

Because he'd felt a need to stray,

To wander, to explore.

He'd left behind one family,

And then he'd found another -

A wife, a son, a distant dream

Had replaced his pa and brothers.

"No," he cried into the wind;

They'd never been replaced.

They still resided in his heart,

As did this special place.

The Ponderosa was his home

No matter where he'd slept.

He saw that truth. He closed his eyes.

He dropped his head - and wept….

Until his youngest brother's bride

Crooked his arm in hers

And led him gently down the hill -

There was no need for words.

They sat together for a while

Beside a warming fire.

She studied him, and caught his eye,

Asked, could she please inquire

What it felt like to be there

In that place he'd once called home?

He gazed at her with gleaming eyes

And said it felt "alone."

She shook her head; she smiled wide,

And told him, "not for long!"

At sundown, when the work was done,

He'd sing a different song.

They spent an hour catching up.

They spoke of Hoss and Joe,

And other names - the younger ones

He had never come to know.

Then the sky began to darken;

and the room began to fill

With familiar smiles and familiar eyes -

His brothers were there still

In the children and the grandchildren

They'd brought into this world.

He found himself surrounded

By Cartwright boys and girls.

When Adam finally caught his breath,

The youngest Cartwright there,

A girl with Joe's uncanny gaze

And his curly, auburn hair,

Placed her tiny hand in his

And bade him "Come and see."

She had to introduce him

To her older brothers, three.

The tallest one was Joseph.

Eric followed next.

The youngest one, with golden hair,

Studied him, perplexed,

And said, "We're not a bit alike."

Why should we be the same?

"Because," the boy said, "obviously,

"We share the Adam name."

When the dream first came upon me

I, with Adam stood,

Upon the hill, beside the graves -

I shared his somber mood.

But as the vision conjured more

I felt his sorrow ease.

The story's sure to carry on

For those Cartwright brothers, three.