Pencil sketch of a young girl ...

 How long thought Thomas: had he gazed at that sketch hanging on the wall. That of a young girl's head: drawn in pencil. On card: framed inside a grey coloured mount. Surrounded by a silver aluminium frame.

 At least twenty-five years or more he told himself.

 There was no doubt the artist. He or she: had talent: for with only different shades and thickness of lines the artist's pencils had captured all of the girls beautiful features.   Her hair at the crown: a touch of a parting can be seen. Heavy pencil lines: as if escaping from the light shade of her right eye. Held fast. At first against her skin: until set free and flare out in single strands. Some dancing over her shoulder.   

Lighter and freer lines bounce and cascade: flowing freely down the left side of her face. Waving and wind blown: escaping the conjures of her face. Only to disappear into the white coloured back board. 

Not a wrinkle.  A straight line or fold can be found upon her forehead. Her  forehead: perfect but for one loose end of hair. Very-so-gently: casting a slight shadow on her eyelids. Her eyelids: crafted from fine pencil lines

If you do not believe my description: or believe in the very existence of such a young girl: or there being a pencil sketch. As I have described. Then wait no more. 

See for yourself.            

Thomas had wondered over the years: for the name of this artist. Maybe the 3 letters: almost hidden: within her hair. Just to the left of where it nestles into her neck. Were they the initials of the artist?  Unfortunately he could only make out the first letter.   

He thought it was a C.      

Days: months. Maybe years passed. Within each day: month and year. He gazed at that sketch. Never seeing: until one day he notice: in the bottom right hand corner. A signature, Scrawled: with a light hand: not quite legible. Yet now he thought: another letter or two. 

He called to his Lord.   

Look. I have discovered the artist's name. He told them: pointing towards the bottom right hand corner of the frame.     

Each disciple in their own time: and at a distance: suitable to their own vision: each provided a name that came to them.     

Thomas listened to the list of letters. Seeing with his own eye. The resemblances of many letters: each in fine pencil lines.

Yet to this day. Thomas is no wiser to the artist’s name.