The Minute Under My Pillow

i hid a piece of time beneath where i would dream it pulsed against the fabric like it knew what i could mean it didn’t tick or measure it didn’t move ahead it curled up in the silence and listened while i slept i asked it for direction it answered with a sigh said time is just a habit we forgot to question why when i woke it wasn’t there but something still remained a softness in the hours that i never could explain