the multiple deaths of a rosebud

the rosebud caught my eye
before it drowned.
yet it was dead
plucked off its stem
long before it was tipped into my cup
and scalded.

it was those hesitant petals
slightly open
dry and gently flickering
that made it seem alive.

i sipped its watery grave
i drank the flower tea
and wonder if anyone mourns
the remnants of a beverage.