My house is a hoard of coasters.  Each night I round them
up from their strut across my tables.  They multiply but most
stay dry for I take in few guests these days.  Still I don’t know
why they spill out as a reminder.  You forgot where I hid
them once so I fetched a few ‘fore dinner.  We shielded
pine together and I was grateful for a protector in a house
so prone to blemishes.  The pine never witnessed
rings but neither did we I guess and now I have
a brood of coasters that strut around my head.