Nevi, marks upon the skin we bear, Clusters of melanocytes resting there, Brown or black, in shapes they roam, Each a quiet, benign home.
From childhood's dawn to youthful height, They form and grow, in morning light. Some stand alone, some in groups they stay, Painting skin in their unique way.
A palette rich, in size and hue, Each one a story, old or new. Harmless mostly, yet we heed, The signs that show a deeper need.
Watch for changes, small or grand, Asymmetry’s uneven hand, Borders irregular, colors in array, A pencil’s size they might outweigh.
Evolution marks the tale they spin, From tiny dots to broader skin. When shifts arise, heed the call, To consult a professional, one and all.
For in these marks, a tale might weave, Of health and caution we must believe. Nevi, silent yet profound, In their quiet way, health’s drum they sound.
