The Hills are Alive After All

Stuck in a cubicle
Like a fire fly in a jar
Peering out through the glass
Perched on a stick,
Longing for freedom.

It's Friday after all...
Isn't it time to be set free?
Will someone at least
Poke some holes
In the lid
Of my cell
That is screwed down tight
Over head?

Let some fresh air
Trickle in
And treat my nose
To the smell of
Cedar and honeysuckle.

Any smell other than
Stale, air conditioned
Office air will do just fine...

Wait, what's this?!
Someone should take it easy
On the Old Spice!
Don't you know
That it makes
My head ache?

Will some kind person
Please unscrew this lid?
Yes, that's it!
I will thank you
With my luninescence.

I missed the bus
But my wings
Can still carry
The weight of
The day

All of the way
To where ever
The sound of music
Is coming from.

The hills ARE alive, after all!