His T-shirt
Is old

And has been washed so many times
The fabric is warn and bare
The letters advertising his favorite team are faded
And he said it had shrunk on the drying line

His T-shirt
Is silly

Because it comes just to the top of my knees
And hangs off my shoulders so that the seems
Where his broad chest would end
Are at my pointy elbows

His T-shirt
Is warm

Even on the coldest night because it is him
It has his happiness and his smile and it hugs me just like he did
And though it fits me all wrong and makes me look
So small

His T-shirt
Is memories