Through tangled threads and twilight’s gleam, The Wooly Wagon rolls through dream. Its wheels are clouds, its reins are red, It carries thoughts we’ve left unsaid. A home of wool, both soft and strong, It hums a slow, nostalgic song. Inside, the stitched and silent crew Are versions lost of me and you. It rides beneath a bleeding sky, Where rooted eyes and secrets lie. A vessel built for those who roam Yet long to find a place called home. made with love and wools