It's The Middle Things...

We drive in half-measures–with the wheel in one hand,

With one foot on the music, eye on lemonade stands,

Until a car the other eye missed leaves a texting hand shattered.

Driving's unkind to those who forget that it matters,

Like the weather–could strand you in rain wind or snow–

Like just about anything done in a boat,

Like that friend you take for granted, who doesn't know you don't want more

Who spends years getting less, back to even the score,

Or lightening, or riptide, or the height of your roof.

They argue for attention using people as proof.

It's not the little things that kill, nor the grandest regrets.

It's the things that, whatever their size, you forget.