Jimin's old journal,

40 10 3
                                    

in the chilly autumn breeze

on the rusty old park bench,

i sit and reminisce.

your old Walkman and the songs about rain,

dried persimmons and your love for them,

the four line poems in your journal

and sketches of the sky,

your words of love and the warmth of your voice,

just every little thing about you

is engraved deeply in this heart of mine.

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