She sits hunched against the windowsill,
Wrapped in woven light,
Soft and still.
The alchemist seeks secrets spun in gold.
Her hands tremble, the truth trapped,
Whispering to her,
Change is patient, rarely pure.
She averts her gaze
To the charcoal cat
That lays languid and unmoving on the floor
A sign of luck, or something more?
She bites her lip, superstition screams
Beyond the glass, figures intertwine
Opposites yet balanced on the perfect line
She aches but doesn't dare embrace
The perfect love—teasing in front of her face
Waiting between guilt and gold
Between lustre and secrets untold
Her heart unsure, hands clenched tight
Pensive under the gods' spite
Before this poem I wrote two other drafts of the image, playing around with different tones and literary devices. I spent three days trying to pick an artwork because I wanted something highly detailed as well as something visually appealing with symbolism I could understand. I had to annotate for about an hour and reread the description over five times in order to attempt to formulate it. My first draft had little literary devices, and I wanted more rhyme, imagery, and personification so I made the potion speak to her because I didn't like the idea of a talking cat. The themes in the image were more hidden, but simplified down to the colours and the couple in the window–I made the poem based on the theme of trying to choose your own fate because I felt personally connected to that idea.