Roses & Books

One day, walking through the city’s rose garden, the Roseto di Roma, I came upon lovely old books that had been gently placed beneath each rose bush. Dog-eared and yellowed, these previously loved books, lay open to no particular page, quietly keeping the rosebuds company. No wonder these roses are so lovely, they are raised on books! So of course I sat down for a bit to peruse the pages. Soon, I found myself reading to the roses.

I wish I knew who, like a fairy, sprinkled books under a row of rose bushes when no one was looking. And why? Perhaps so that they might grow up to be empowered and discerning? Does there exist any ground more fertile than that enriched by words of wisdom? Of course compost and eager worms have something to do with it, but if I were a rose I would want a book nearby. I think St. Exupéry’s Little Prince would agree that a book is just what a rose needs to grow beautiful.

Have you read The Little Prince lately? It’s one of the (many) children’s books I turn to when I am craving something sweet, when I need gentle words that remind me why I read and why I write. Children’s books, like poetry, go straight to the heart. Like a rose, their beauty stays with you long after the petals have dried. Petals and pages, it is all poetry for the heart.