In the quiet room, a woman waits,
As shadows dance on sterile walls,
A pause, a breath, a fleeting state,
Before the X-ray's silent calls.
A mammogram, a careful gaze,
To peer beyond the flesh's veil,
Each breast compressed, a tender phase,
Where whispers hide, where fears unveil.
No symptoms borne, yet here she lies,
In search of truths, in shadows deep,
Where silent fears may softly rise,
In moments held, in thoughts that creep.
The plates embrace, the images unfurl,
Revealing secrets, hidden, stark,
In whispers traced, in shadows swirl,
A dance of light in the shadows' arc.
A radiologist's discerning eye,
To sift through whispers, shadows cast,
In silent realms where fears may lie,
To find the truths, to hold them fast.
For in this dance of light and shade,
Where hope and fear entwine their strands,
A silent battle, softly played,
In the quiet room, where courage stands.
Mammograms, a vital tool,
In the quest to catch the unseen foe,
To find the whispers, to break the rule,
And let the healing waters flow.
So in the quiet room, she waits,
As shadows dance on sterile walls,
A pause, a breath, a fleeting state,
Before the X-ray's silent calls.
