I Bounce

She sees me after church in Tesco’s.
‘Are you walking home?’ she asks.

‘I am bouncing,’ I reply.
She looks surprised.

I think: I could explain about
the years in bed.

I could explain the happiness of legs
moving– the feel, the sound.

I could explain my joy in independence–
food-shopping for myself– the choice, the safety.

Instead, I just smile,
and possibly shine.

Then, just because I can,
I bounce.