Poem of the week: Boxhill in Surrey

(Hosting part of cycling event in Olympics)

The curve of the hill is such,

It makes you want to fly down and only touch,

The ground below with senses reeling,

Heart beating, lungs bursting, wondrous feeling,

Orchids grow in secret places,

Waiting until summer to show their shy faces,

Bushes of Box still dot the slopes,

Soft grasses sway when the wind gently strokes,

For years visitors have enjoyed this gem,

Returning to its beauty again and again,

The hill is like a big familiar friend,

Who gives us peace, tranquillity and space to unbend.

Paula Loveridge