Bruce the recluse did not like to go out,
fresh air made him dizzy, the sun made him shout.
But he longed to see places, far away lands,
green forests, great mountains and wild desert sands.
Wacky, tall buildings that reach to the sky,
fun fairs, old castles and shops selling pie.
Magical gardens, a babbling brook,
big open spaces, a quaint, cosy nook.
Shakespearean plays and Old Master art,
hot air balloons and donkey-drawn carts.
Too frightened to travel and leave his own home,
it seemed poor Bruce was not destined to roam.
Friends sent him postcards and letters galore.
He travelled the world from behind his closed door.
Paintings and journals soon joined the pile.
He criss-crossed the globe without moving a mile.
Year after year more treasures arrived,
from wayfaring chums who felt him deprived.
His collection grew at a frightful pace,
covering all surfaces, filling all space.
Soon Bruce couldn't even wriggle his toes,
have a bath, eat biscuits or change his clothes.
With not even one inch of space left inside,
the postman came with a new travel guide..... Uh Oh!
A sound like a colossal, creaking mouse,
revealed the strain on poor Bruce's house.
Papers and letters were scattered around,
the explosion launched Bruce across the ground.
The force kept him going, he could not slow down.
Soon he had left his little hometown.
And he kept on going, further afield,
till Bruce found that travel really appealed.
With joy in his heart, he soared through the sky.
Bruce the explorer waved recluse goodbye!
Image © 2014 Amanda Hall
Poem © 2014 Meagan Munroe
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