NO ONE CAN HEAR HIM CALL

Hear him call, the knock on wood that fell from a tree for paper to use by thee. Hear him shout, whilst ye sit in the corner all alone. No one can hear him call. Cheerful, stout; "God's name, what is this man yelling about?" Heart of Gold, sincere with a pout; sitting in the corner listening, can't make out. Silence becomes words, a stern look, no frown, for what's delivered is honest, shivering through and through; words become silent; cheerful, renewed. No more, no nothing, here and the now, bewildered, feeling a frown? "Look, you'll see, this gift I gave you."