I've spent so many hours in this room,
my mother's private place to rest;
She'd read, write, and drink coffee alone,
it gave her time to be at her best.

I know how much she adored her spot,
a cozy chair sitting by the window;
Where she could observe Nature's Glory,
the snow, the rain, the sun's magic glow.

It seemed to inspire her inner self,
the one who was truly literate and wise;
She'd light a cigarette and wistfully recall,
the moments which lingered within her sighs.

Mother's intellect was greatly admired,
as a librarian she was both kind and helpful;
Thank goodness she was always our mentor,
as we struggled with our assignments from school.

This tiny room was her only refuge,
from the noise and chaos of a large clan;
I close my eyes to see her in that chair,
for this is where living and learning began.