Nik Olah waxed poetic:

Ok... That was her poem.  Here is how I imagined it...

          The Last Caller...

                 Call         Call         Call
                       Call         Call...

Callers Call Calls to Callers' Called Calls
each note rings loud and clear
But no Calls of Callers Return my Calls
and I begin to fear.

                       Call         Call
                 Call         Call         Call...

The Callers don't Return my Calls,
and I don't Call as often.
I'ts been so long, since a Return,
that I can't recall just when.

                       Call         Call
                              Call         Call...

Why the silence, why the change,
can't they hear me cry??
They must not be able to Return
but still I must try.

                       Call         Call
                              Call...

They have to Return, it's our nature,
unleass there is a reason.
The North Wind blows and plays it's part
at the end of this season.

                       Call         Call..

Safe in shelter I know, cold stills my calls.
Could the others not hide?
Callers fled, seeking warmth
I know they must have tried.

                              Call...

And so, alone, I Call out
wondering for what it's worth.
And I cannot help but think the thought...
Am I all alone on
This Quiet Earth?

                              Call.