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