Dhara Rapsanjani Poem by heather sweeting

Little Dhara Rapsanjani made her way down to the shore,
Where the river was a torrent, from a storm the day before.
She found a place amongst the rocks, shielded from the sun
and began to wash the saris in the water, one by one.
Scarlet, gold and purple, they flashed against the stones
In time with Dhara's singing in melodic, keening tones.
So busy in her rhythmic task, so deafened by the wake,
She failed to see the massive bulk or hear the waters break!
The crocodile crashed up and out, charging across the mud,
Its powerful jaws crushed flesh and skin, spurting crimson blood!
Then, as quickly it retreated, leaving just reddened stones,
It thrashed around with its hapless prey, crunching on the bones.
Pretty Dhara Rapsanjani, was a dutiful little daughter,
Always heeding her mother's advice when washing at the river;
‘Remember child, always take a goat and tether it by the heel,
It is wiser to feed a crocodile than to become its favourite meal.'