Le Tour turns sour
Final leg, still a chance
Focused, head down
Pain
Energy fading
A foot slip
Concentration meets exhaustion
Pedalling harder, slowing down
Quick look down
Something is wrong
I swear
I stop
No other way
A broken chain did end false, grand hopes
I jolt, knees lock, my nerves, open panic
Quietly raging, steward turns up, voices warn
Xanthopsia, yellow zephyr
Wheels flash passed
Peloton already distant
Stragglers stare
Endgame
Consoled by crowd
Devastated
Punctured dreams
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