She Knows Best

She can hear his heartbeat

Pitter-patter on her windowpane.

Rolling dewdrops rage,

Like falling stars,

Until she lets him in.

But it is muggy outside

And she has no room

For flooded groundwork.

Yet, he may not wish to wait

Until the bricks are set.

Storms consume the tinkering

Heartstrings left out

In the downpour.

The pitter-patter ceases

As it remains warm indoors.