Sense

The concoction of tuxedos
Falafel vendors in the streets

Fall in panic, for the wedding
Is disastrous, complete and utter

Fisticuffs and fast flying feet
Wine tasting by the bottleful

Sunshine perfectly precarious
Teetered on threads of her white dress

Her uncle thought it ugly
So did her mother, needlessly

It spun red and white roulette
When punch was punched up in the air

Spilling in dust and family
The bride cried in tragedy

Her husband said, laughing, that
She had no sense of humor

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