Dad's Advice

Twelve years old, not worldly wise,

Warmed by black seam’s smoky prize

Gazing inside flickering golds

Blazing flaming, fiery reds,

Hearing the hissing death throes

Of a plastic milk bottle ,my Father

Told me not to breathe the fumes

‘You’ll get plasticated lungs’ said he,

Behind his newspaper in our living room.