I like to hold onto things
like threads of time that fray,
the sweater I outgrew last spring
still warms me in its way.
My mornings taste the same
that one breakfast, that one plate,
the comfort in repetition
feels like a quiet fate.
I sit by the same old window,
where the hills know my name,
the sky keeps changing colours
yet my view remains the same.
I re-read the books I’ve lived through,
their pages soft with trust,
the words don’t change, but somehow
they always feel like us.
And oh my favourite people,
I keep them close, like song,
the ones who stayed when silence
was heavier than strong.
Maybe I cling too tightly,
to sweaters, skies, and days
but holding on has taught me
how love outlives its ways.
Because sometimes, staying still
isn’t fear—it’s faith.
And some things are worth holding
even when they’ve changed.
And if someday I must let go,
I’ll do it slow, with grace
for everything I’ve held so long
has already found its place
Dr Priya Tripathi
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 12:39 AM UTC
I like to hold onto things
like threads of time that fray,
the sweater I outgrew last spring
still warms me in its way.
My mornings taste the same
that one breakfast, that one plate,
the comfort in repetition
feels like a quiet fate.
I sit by the same old window,
where the hills know my name,
the sky keeps changing colours
yet my view remains the same.
I re-read the books I’ve lived through,
their pages soft with trust,
the words don’t change, but somehow
they always feel like us.
And oh my favourite people,
I keep them close, like song,
the ones who stayed when silence
was heavier than strong.
Maybe I cling too tightly,
to sweaters, skies, and days
but holding on has taught me
how love outlives its ways.
Because sometimes, staying still
isn’t fear—it’s faith.
And some things are worth holding
even when they’ve changed.
And if someday I must let go,
I’ll do it slow, with grace
for everything I’ve held so long
has already found its place
Dr Priya Tripathi
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