In ancient times, a chunk of wood, so raw,
Hollowed and filled, like some ancient claw.
Restored with care, its purpose rearranged,
To write with lead, a script of thoughts exchanged.
Inscribed on parchment humanities pace,
A language from the past, in a sacred space.
But clay, soft and tender, it awaits with glee,
A special piece of wood to tell love's decree.
This tale unfolds with care,
In wooden blocks and clay, a story is rare.
From ages past to the present, we roam,
Inscribing love's verses, our eternal home.
So cherish the wood, the clay's embrace,
For in their union, love finds its place.
Through cuneiform symbols or strokes that dance,
The heart's deepest passions find their chance.