it was Hyde Park on a typical day gray, gloomy, and stoic with rain streaked faces, and weathered eyes we ran to catch a glimpse of British awe for pomp and circumstance it was a day for horses, and speeches, and waving white gloves a day for the Queen to be officially born a birthday at its royal finest as the fates would have it our path was destined to create a scene not out of a fairy tale or off the Queen's official list but from the pages of life two tired, wet, awkward Americans standing on the corner and one tired, dry, beautiful Princess on her way home connected eyes, smiled, and waved she went on her way and we had a story to tell

now six years later as we watch them lay her body to rest
with enough pomp and circumstance
to create British awe
with a day of horses, and sermons, and praying white gloves
we ask
is this a day for the Princess to be officially dead
can it be death at its royal finest
or do we all now see
as the Princess once did
its transparency in the cathedral candle light