The twinkle in your eye,
the green of grass,

the blue of plates,
the watching of films,

the hugs, the kisses,
the holding of hands,

the creativity,
the disparate ideas connecting,

the thank yous, and the ‘You make a difference’,
the possibilities– the books with my name on,

the light through the window,
the walking through doorways,

the eating of good food,
the laughter multiplying,

the gratuitous movement, stretches,
striding,

Jesus, you hold out your hand.
When I take it, the world sparkles.

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.