A juicy strawberry. . . This girl never picked it A summer's day. . . Why did I stay inside and let the sun set? A heart so full, kept mostly locked up Unkeyed bares the ardor of a playful pup Am I likened to a misere hoarding a stash, Or a cultivated garden that I am turning by flame to ash? Sloth and selfishness too often befriend me Turning me into my own enemy So now with haste These lines I write As time I waste Again I take flight