A gentle touch to her cheeks,
A run of fingers over her smooth skin, caressing her delicate beauty.
My eyes never leaving hers; not even for the second it takes to find my bearings again in the large room in which we both sit.
A stroke to her chin- that soft, curved and small chin if hers,
A chin as pronounced as her cheek bones!
Her face is like a finely built church; miraculous in its construction, open and friendly, without blemish…
And her eyes are the stained glass windows that capture the light of the sun- somehow making it even more beautiful than it already is.
And the smile…those who know her would say it is her smile that makes her famous!
Hers is such a smile as to suggest enigmatic intention, an almost seductive invitation, and a kindness paramount to her beauty.
A slight brush over those lips and she’s finished…restored to her original self.
My paintbrush has never touched anything as esteemed as her features and her surroundings and,
Likely never will again but the restoration has been a privilege unlike any other.
To think that I, a young painter and restorer, would be aloud anywhere near a da Vinci!
I notice something I had missed before and dab my brush against her brown, curly hair.
The Mona Lisa…her smile is pure again…without blemish and without age.