Chair Memories at the Inn

Worn redwood chairs
each with a story to share
rock in filtered sunlight,
bursting vines in blue profusion
eavesdropping overhead.

One recalled a stoop shouldered woman
who told her shawl-wrapped friend
of love lost during a bitter winter
of stormy recriminations.

Another told of small children
running through the court yard
disturbing three mustached men
surrounded by wisps of smoke
rising from well worn pipes,
each wearing a treasured beret,
embellishing stories.

Two convened memories
of lovers on a warm spring night
flirting in the shadows
sipping Chablis before shyly
disappearing through French doors
only to emerge eyes heavy with sleep
in the pink pastel of dawn.

Wistfully these old chairs rock
in the late afternoon heat
hoping that early summer guests
add chapters to their memories.