I see a white woman sitting on a seat, leaning her arms on the table, with her pet dog lying beside her. The room is decorated with a wooden floor. I see a clock on the floor, a portrait, a bookshelf with piles of books that look like encyclopedias, and some flowers on top of it close to the windows. There are also flowers lying on the wooden floor. I can also see a teacup on the saucer, and the room has long curtains with glass. I see a lamp on the table and a light on the wall, with some reflections of light outside.
I feel it's a private library from the 18th century, made for royalty. The woman looks lonely and depressed. She allows the flowers and the clock to be on the floor because she feels down and fading away, and it reminds her of when she was beautiful, vibrant, and surrounded by loved ones. But now, the only living thing around her is her dog.
POEM
The journey of a girl.
At 16, she looks young, like a living flower—fresh, attractive, and especially alluring to men. Grace now speaks, and her delicate and charming face blooms lighter.
At 18, her transparent or hidden nature unfolds her beauty. She is innocent about the reality of life yet aware of the joy of growing into a woman, preparing to make choices that may bring favor or regret.
After 20, she transitions from girlhood to womanhood, her journey unfolding. Her spirit dances, her strength remains untold, as she prepares to act according to her written script of love. This battle may end in loss or victory.
For in her essence, a woman stands, her final choices guiding her through trials and triumphs, as she finds her way—a beacon of marriage, whatever may come, bitterness or sweetness awaits.
As evening falls, her beauty fades away, and life's sweet or bitter memories lose meaning, for days are but few, loneliness is unavoidable, and echoes of beauty and wealth vanity upon vanity.
End.
Thanks for stopping by.