oh, i know.
i let the hours pass.
one after the other.
they passed
and in their passing
they no longer were hours.
they became other measures.
wine, music.
a bit of this and that.
i let them pass with no words between them.
i watched them go,
vaguely,
in the blind spot
of my attention span.
i figured they needed a rest.
but they did not.
they yearned for recognition.
they wanted to be used.
“used.”
made good.
so i took all the hours back.
i lay them down side by side.
i gave them fresh sheets, soft pillows.
they became a minute –
one long minute
of sacred silence
for lost time,
found again.