Tourmalet

TOURMALET

Where the mountain peaks caress the sky

Green stone carpets weave their patchwork

The curved asphalt track sneaky beackons

To progress higher, higher, higher, high

Into the lap of misty rain and clouds

Cheers echo of those that cannot be seen

Unscrewed heads shaking from right to left

Sweating battered bodies, exploding legs

These are the slaves chained by racing bikes

Possessed to  reach the ultimate

Bushed, in search of eternal glory

ejf 22 07 2010

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