Her bespoke face
Betrayed no provenance
No signature or style
Save those life etched within each line
each scar and curve of chin and cheek
No sign of props placed here and there
To hold it all in space
No awkward look or heavy paint
To dazzle or illuminate
Just a canvas standing there
With pleasant eyes of burning depth
and mouth with upturned corners
Quite suddenly she smiled at me
And said hello-how-are-you?
One of a kind I see – said I –
With hat tipped to my Maker.