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