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A silver cup beneath the stars
In a little room of candlelight
Beyond the market square
A kettle sang its quiet song
Through the evening air
The shelves were lined with tiny jars
Of herbs and summer leaves
And moonlight rested on the glass
Like a visitor of dreams
An old teacup upon the table
Held a gentle silver glow
As if a piece of starlight
Had fallen long ago
No one spoke above a whisper
No one hurried through the night
Only the crackling fire
And the lantern's golden light
In the starlit teacup
The night becomes still
Like a river resting softly
Beyond the distant hills
In the starlit teacup
The silver reflections shine
Holding quiet little wonders
For hearts like yours and mine
Outside the wind kept wandering
Through the sleeping town
While inside every shadow
Seemed softer somehow
The tea grew slowly colder
But no one seemed to mind
For some moments are too precious
To leave too far behind
In the starlit teacup
The evening lingers on
Like a story half remembered
At the edge of dawn
In the starlit teacup
The silver lights remain
Waiting for another traveler
To dream there once again
A silver cup beneath the stars
