For DVerse’s Quadrille Monday, we are to write a poem of 44 words containing the word “ice.” I couldn’t help dipping my poetic pen-paintbrush into some dark paints. Not sure if it’s good, but it’s the best thing I’ve written all week.
She tries to ward off his advances, Feeling helpless as a daisy in a snowstorm As his icy fingers chillingly caress Her hair as if it were pure-white petals, Before he rips them, callously as if limb-from-limb. Her tears are the dewdrops of mo(u)ring.

MVB Prompt: Advance.