Beneath the ribs, in silent grace, A tale of kidneys, bound in place. Not two apart, as nature planned, But fused below, a horseshoe stand.
In fetal days, when life began, These organs chose a different span. Their lower poles, like hands entwined, Together formed a single line.
Congenital, from birth they rise, A U-shaped bond beneath the skies. One in five hundred shares this fate, Yet many live without debate.
But risks may come, a gentle nudge— A stone, a pain, a flow that floods. Infections loom, or swelling grows, As backward streams of urine flow.
With tests, we see this form so clear, An ultrasound brings structure near. Or scans of CT, MRI, Reveal the shape, explain the why.
Treatment aids the symptoms felt, A stone removed, infection dealt. In rarest times, a surgeon’s hand, Will guide the flow, as life demands.
Yet most will thrive, this truth holds fast, With care and check, their health will last. For though they're fused, they work as two, A horseshoe bound, yet strong and true.
