In Yarnbow City, the skies are spun,
With clouds of cotton, kissed by sun.
A rainbow river weaves the land,
Through towers stitched by careful hand.
The streets are laced in crimson thread,
Where trees of velvet bloom bright red.
Each building hums a silent rhyme,
Crocheted in loops that bend through time.
No engines roar, no wheels complain
Just the whisper-soft of woven rain.
The moon is felt, the stars are knit,
The air itself a perfect fit.
Here dreams are dyed in every hue,
From twilight mauve to morning blue.
And hands that craft, and hearts that mend,
Find in each stitch a lifelong friend.
So wander far, or linger slow,
Let tangled thoughts begin to flow.
For Yarnbow City waits for all
The brave, the lost, the meek, the tall.
A place where chaos finds its seam,
And every thread begins a dream.
Made with love and wools
