Walking in the procession, I see roses
fall from a mezzanine ---
had their purchasée been slighted?

Rough tumble with the wife perhaps?
     Girlfriend who's seen her "prince" deknighted?
          A child's impulsive toss?

Women in the procession
reach out, ***** the breeze.

Some rose is trampled.

Between rush of feet,
I see them thornless, likely perennial ---
a hue that reminds one of injury.