Oh, how I miss you.
As a child, I hated you, crying at the mere suggestion of you.
As an adult, I scoffed when I heard your name.
Older now, I lie in bed—eyes closed—praying you'll overtake me.
Without you I'm a listless endless yawn. I need you, dear Sleep.
By Lisa H. Owens
Created for an Inner Circle Writers' Group 50-word Flash Fiction Friday
September 17, 2021
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