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Reaching For What Isn't ThereI lit a Mexican cigaron my old gas burnersat back and listened to midnightwhisper and murmurwas honeysuckle on the windor was her scent haunting the aircos with echoes of her mem'ryI'm reaching for what isn't theremoonlight hung from the hillsand glowed like silver tinselthe night she wrote, her farewell notewith her eyebrow pencilI'd wait for her to come backand show that she still caresbut the hands of time don't botherreaching for what isn't thereso I curse the night and kneellooking for someone, somewhere to feelfor a heart this lonely can only bow in prayerand hope it's not reaching for what isn't thereonce I drank at honky tonksthat were rowdy and hardcorebarmaids on pool tablesBowie knives in the dartboardwhile she lay alone in bedwith eternity to sharebut women need love and they tire ofreaching for what isn't there(c)2005 Robert George