In the tender folds of youthful grace, Where dreams take flight and hopes embrace, There lies a tale of firm yet gentle swell, A fibroadenoma, a story to tell.
A benign bloom in life's tender bower, Crafted of glandular might and stromal power, A whisper in the breast's soft refrain, A presence felt, yet free from pain.
Smooth and firm, a rubbery sigh, Within the depths where secrets lie, Easily movable, a dance unseen, In the quiet spaces where dreams convene.
From fifteen to thirty-five's embrace, It finds its home, a quiet space, Yet not bound by age's decree, For older hearts may also see.
A spectrum vast, in size it claims, From tiny whispers to grand refrains, A centimeter's whisper or wider span, A silent tale of woman's plan.
In pregnancy's glow, it may unfurl, Or hormones' dance, its edges swirl, Yet in menopause's gentle breeze, It may fade away with silent ease.
Harmless harbinger, without malign, No shadow cast, no cancer's sign, Yet watched with care, a vigilant eye, To ensure its peace does not belie.
And should discomfort start to rise, Or vanity's whisper meet the skies, A lumpectomy may softly tread, To ease the fears that softly spread.
So here's to fibroadenoma's tale, A gentle presence that does not fail, In breasts of youth or seasoned grace, A benign bloom, a tender embrace.
