Years ago this was wood.
It’s not anymore,
but it was before.
Now it’s a place.

More than a place I guess.
One could make the case
that it’s just a position in space;
a state defined by a number.

But it’s also a place to think,
a place for burdens to slumber
finding comfort in the lumber.
One could rest her, abandoned post.

More than one sometimes,
passengers influenced by the host
becoming a place themselves almost;
in repose, a companion gained.

So take a seat,
settle into the grain
like a warm stain
Take it in and let the rest go.