RIP My white shirt. You have been good to me. Alas, wear and tear has destroyed you. Antiperspirant has reacted badly to washing, defacing your usual pristine condition. Buttons have been lost, edges frayed, shape distorted. I have had you for many years, trusted and reliable, you have been the shirt I travel with, the shirt I have mourned, cheered, and yelled in.
It is time to lay you to rest. How? I do not know. Perhaps I should burn you and scatter your ashes? Or dig a hole in the ground for your final resting place? I could construct a mausoleum for you, as a testimony to your versatile splendor and faithful service in helping me look fresh.
I have, with heavy heart and somber, respectful delay, replaced you. I had misgivings, I certainly did drag my feet, but you will forever be in my heart. Like a faithful General to his regent, you stood by and took damage even when you should have pleaded for rest; dutifully providing the neutral canvas for whatever I wore into battle.
So now, white shirt, I salute you. Oft overlooked, I wish to thank you for your selfless service. You will be missed.