In August 1997,
At a Parisian site,
Fate ****** the world to mourn—
Just past the stroke of midnight.

A beautiful princess
At soaring height
Suddenly lost
Her earthly light.

Sunday ended
Her mortal plight—
She breathe her last
And then took flight.

A kindly woman—
Full of life.
A doting mother,
And longing wife.

Her adorable sons,
Two young lads,
Were left, solely,
In care of their Dad.

The world noted
The touch of her hand—
The generous heart
She shared with man.

Heads of state—
Moved with tears—
Honored the Princess'
Fruitful years.

America, France,
Africa too—
Reflected upon
The Diana they knew.

She touched lepers,
Which royals forbade,
Embraced the homeless
And victims of AIDS.

An image of beauty.
A charming dove.
A woman of courage.
A token—beloved.

In the eyes of children,
Diana stood tall.
She won their hearts,
And loved them all.

With plenty to offer,
She traveled a lot—
‘Twas everywhere.
Then, she was not.

A pilgrimage came
Day and night,
With oceans of gifts
For tribute sites.

They stood for hours
In sorted lines,
To leave expressions
In books signed.

On September 6,
Fans of Di
Flooded the UK
For a final goodbye.

The jammed cortege
Was over three miles:
Kensington to Abby.
At Saint James she lie.

Many knew her
And many did not,
But all mourned
The fate of her lot.

Cher'shed impressions
Upon the world.
A legacy of hope
By a British girl.

A precious jewel,
A towering steeple.
Forever the 'Princess…
Of the People.'

-Walterrean Salley