Her eyelids are heavy; her vision is shaded,
Lashes weighing down and out, but not quite closed.
The residue of sleep builds up in the corners of her eyes.
She wonders why, where did it come from?
Sleep has eluded her for days, coming in fits and bursts.
Worry of the future, lists of responsibilities stretching out in her mind of days to come,
Distractions and thoughts like a cloud of gnats buzzing around her ears, never stopping.
Would she ever find rest?
Sleep is elusive prey; you can crouch in the shadows for hours and never catch it.
It likes to play with the hunter, staying just in the line of sight, and just out of reach,
Only to overcome the hunter as exhaustion runs them down.
But slowly, oh so slowly, the hunter learns to trust,
To let their guard down, just a little,
To not crouch ready for the next attack, the next kill.
And with trust filling the blood and spreading through the body, the muscles relax.
And rest, though elusive in nature, makes its way to the dwelling of the hunter.
And greets its pursuer like an old friend.