Upon the breast, a quiet storm may brew, Where lobules hold secrets, unseen but true. Abnormal cells, a silent voice they bear, In whispers soft, a tale of cautious care.
Not cancer's grasp, yet still a cause for heed, LCIS, a marker of future need. Within the realm where milk and life entwine, Aberrant growth, a subtle warning sign.
Ductal and lobular, two realms distinct, Yet LCIS, in lobules, does succinct. No lump, no change, to sound the alarm, Yet lurking risk demands a watchful arm.
In vigilance, we find our saving grace, Regular checks, our fears to efface. Through mammograms and dialogue sincere, We face the future with a clearer steer.
So, in the shadow of uncertainty, We navigate, with hope and unity. For LCIS, though silent, speaks a tale, Of resilience in the face of the frail.
