For some reason, the phrase 'The frame I once built my comfort around' springs to mind. I'm just going to stream of consciousness a bit here, so skip the bits that make no sense/are bone-achingly pretentious ;)
The chair represents the frame that an unseen narrator built his/her 'comfort' around, the belief he/she had in themselves. It might have been a slightly childish construction, because the sea represents harsh reality, blasting away sections of the comfort. It's gentle at the moment, so we can still see the framework, but at night it rages and batters into the frail wooden sense of self constructed by this person.
For all that, though, the frame still exists. We're always the people we've been before, all perhaps we no longer often sit on that comfort. Sometimes the sea spits back at us things we wished we could have remembered on our own. Sometimes times are hard but hard times now and then give us gifts back.
Strident Vivaldi - L'Inverno.
Sit thee down, Father, rest thee. This isn't my chair - who's sat in my chair?
Created: Dec 23, 2010trebizond Document Media