You can never get it right. The flowing motion struggling to form from hard graphite; it would be against its own nature. Stone cannot capture waters motion.
She’s dancing by the lake as the moon sits above; you’re in awe… How could you not be? You look back down to your hands, calloused and harsh as they are; like rock so desperate to be as the flowing river.
Maybe she noticed your expression. Maybe she is tired. She gives you a curious look and takes a few steps to look at the parchment in hand. Without a word, she return to her place and begins to repeat the motion, the same you so desperately wished to capture.
Again and again, the same few steps. A gentle urging. No need for words… This her own way of telling you to keep going.
She is singing now too. A little unfair, given how easily distracted you are. She smiles and you return your attention to the page.
You can’t help but remember that no matter where the river flows, it always returns to the mountains… No matter what, she will always return to your side.