Summer Herald
The only way I can detect the changing of the seasons - since I am permanently confined in the underground train station corridor - is from the changing footwear styles of my customers. The appearance of sandals on bare, freshly pedicured feet, for example, heralds the arrival of summer!
I still have to kiss feet, however - whatever the weather; come rain, hail or shine!
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Such a pretty herald of summer... |
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...a summer angel! |
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The heraldic angel elects not to speak to me... |
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...but rather, lets her feet do the talking - presenting her pedicured, right foot to my menial mouth... |
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...so that I might humbly and worshipfully kiss-respect it |
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Her left foot then follows |
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I taste her orange toes... |
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...the fresh toes of summer! |
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Such a fragrant feminine foot... |
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...reeking of summer meadows and fresh flowers (mixed with the delicate aroma of sandal leather!) |
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Not like the musty and leathery shoes and boots of winter! |
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All too soon the herald angel proceeds on her way... |
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...secure in the knowledge she has made my summer's day and brought sunshine into my lowly life! |
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Meanwhile, I keep my humble head suitably bowed behind her angelic toes... |
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...my first taste of the summer outside! |