13: Father, son, you’re up against big-eyed instincts?  
                              hard  
to get out of the valise, dear. My love. We pirated the code.   
 
I can’t say we did it willingly (frantic determination in storm gusts).   
 
A semblance of you as some other was good to hold, in lease.  
Who lets it says so. 
 
When, again, you are love for me, against a fall,  
against the coming end, against death and eternal cold, my dear, 
 
we then and here should prepare 
but against love, your semblances bear no results. Call.