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.