Privilege

[Semicircle]

Privilege (working title)

Everyone is waiting and working,
to savor the sweet taste of strawberries 
on their lips.

Kiss the memories of summer goodbye, 
with the crack of a gun,
that someone pulled from their holster.

But I will go on
slowly dipping berries in a little blue box of sugar -- 
they are perfection.

Without looking at the other comments I would say--
work on the second stanza,
I think some other metaphor would mesh better with the poem.