She is on the street in her little kiosk ,
at the break of the dawn ,
When many are still on a lucid dream.

Selling the most delicious of grapes
Sourced straight from the vineyards

Assembling  the previous  day's discards all in a tray
Discards For humans it maybe ,
But
for her birds its a treat to relish .
Swooping
down  for it ,day after day..

Mostly bought by the morning walkers ,
Many in numbers are they
old patrons , as they say.

Every day she sells her wares
Holding the loveliest of smile
That I have seen in years,
All Knowing , the pain that  she hides behind .

Never misses a day nor business,
And back home she is before sundown.

Only to return the following day,
With a new stock ,at the break of the dawn.

one is so glad
for not being a member
of his harem
exclusion from the inner sanctum
gives one a good perspective
on the everyday doings
between his adoring ladies
one oft sees them bickering
over his attention
the females appear
to be competing
at a super-human rate
hoping he'll send a flashing wink
their way
the sheik
has many choices
inside
his tent