Moonlight in a Cup

Scent of moon gathered in an empty cup,
silver that fades on the silent bottom.
Every sip is an evening that never leaves,
a drawn map upon the rim.
It tells of journeys never taken, through luminous mists;
distant cities shine in my hesitant breaths.
streets without schedules, ports without landings,
names that linger on the night’s vapor.
The moon speaks with the tongue of dreams,
something I never dared to traverse.
journeys without baggage, routes of absent stars,
and I follow that scent until it ceases.
Then the cup remains empty, yet the journey persists,
a fragrance that stays upon the palate and in time.
I close my eyes, listening to the missing routes,
and I know that the untaken is the truest dream.