My father, in a white shirt:
I see him again, through the far windows of time,
He only rarely wore a white shirt during his life,
And only in performance of his duties, for an organization or job.

White is a sign to me of his earnest nature and simplicity;
He had no aspirations to whiteness,
He was happiest wearing no shirt at all.
In my dreams, white clothing symbolizes his innate nature.

When he lay dying, he still remained sweet:
He tried to smile, before death's own door.
Now white is all he wears,
Now white is where he lives;
White are all his vestments
In the white folds, of his timelessness.