Toddler’s rosy ice-cold cheeks.
Zooming, bumping down icy hills
on cafeteria-trays as sleds.
Crack-the-whip flying on ice skates.
Chocolate ganache, icing supreme,
marguerita on the rocks, please.
Icicle turrets on snow castles,
I scream for ice cream.
at a list like this.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish asks us to include the word “ice” or a form of the word, in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Image by annca from Pixabay