This tire
Yes it's real
Cruising along
Without a care
Taking things for granted
That some things just are
Well, because they are
And we move on
Until one day
Life reminds you
That you're not in control
You never were
You never will be
You're left
Feeling flattened
Deflated by life
And so you just sit
Waiting for someone
To come rescue you
Bail you out
Like so many times before
So there you sit
Staring up at the night sky
Looking to the moon
The stars
Waiting for life to move on
Waiting in silence
In the darkness of night
Waiting to be saved
Waiting to go home
But for now, you're stuck
Stranded as it may
At a roadside respite
A gas station parking lot
But you're safe
And you wonder
Why is life
Constantly leaving you deflated
But you're safe
A necessary reminder
That you've been given
Yet another chance
A reprieve
So, you replace the tire
With a spare
Tires are like that
Meant to be replaced
So we can return to normal
Resume your trip
Life, however
You only get one
So you remind yourself
To get on with your life
So, the next morning
You wake up
Your dog at your side
In a comfortable bed
Your best friend a text away
The sun is shining
And you think
Life
You're not going to leave me flat
.
Note: This really did happen last night. Driving along, not too far from home, daughter in the passenger seat, about to get on the highway. The low pressure light comes on with a chime, and in less that a minute, I'm driving on a completely flat tire. I go to a gas station, call for assistance, and wait. I don't have a jack, but I do have a spare and roadside assistance, and not long after, a tow truck driver comes, replaces the tire, and we navigate our way home safely. I couldn't be more thankful. It's almost like we were being watched over so the worst didn't happen.
Immediately, my poet brain activated, and that's where this poem was born. I'm blessed to write it from the comfort of my own home, safe, alive, and a story to tell.
©️Mark's Life
Brilliant Mark..love it
Mark, what I appreciated most about this poem was that it refuses to romanticize adversity. The flat tire isn't transformed into some grand revelation; it simply becomes a quiet interruption that gently reminds us of something we are forever forgetting—that control has always been more fragile than we imagine, and gratitude often arrives disguised as inconvenience.
I found myself lingering over the repeated line, "But you're safe." In a poem filled with waiting, uncertainty, and vulnerability, those three words become its emotional anchor. They quietly shift the perspective from "Why did this happen?" to "What has been spared?" That change in focus is what gives the poem its quiet optimism. Sometimes the greatest blessing isn't that life goes according to plan, but that we're still here to continue the journey.
I'm happily subscribing because your writing finds reflective meaning in the ordinary moments most of us would simply brush aside. You have a gift for allowing everyday experiences to unfold into gentle reminders about gratitude, resilience, and perspective.
I write at The Reflective State, where reflective essays often begin with an ordinary incident before gradually uncovering the larger truths quietly waiting beneath it. If curiosity ever leads you there, I'd be delighted to have you visit and share your thoughts. I have a feeling you might especially enjoy Those 250 Steps to Humility, which also begins with an everyday experience that slowly reveals something far more enduring about life.