Eleven Weeks Vansire

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Since we last spoke
The past eleven weeks
The stacks of paper left me feeling
Like sentience is not quite what it seems

When we last wrote
It was the sun and me
With cliffs as high and fears as deep
With my magnum opus, my starry-eyed recitative

The color on these trees
It's like something from a movie
Last night, I smiled
While laughing at a moonbeam
We're all moving

I felt awoke
Our summer music spree
My reflections on being cut free
It's turning out to be the strength I need

I hope you know
That there's still joy for me
In fleeting moments, I take relief
In my suspicion that these past months were a dream