Tasting Notes: Chardonnay

My taste buds told me I was drinking the scent of wisteria at its peak and peaches faintly past their prime. The wine carried the burden and exuberance that accompanies transitions. The golden liquid with legs’ enchantment resided in what it implied, but never explicitly said; dispersed both memories and future longings. A mouthful beckoned beginnings, and endings. The golden elixir was neither here, nor there. It made no apologies for its aloofness.  My inability to coherently attach verbs to its existence was frustrating and liberating. I’ve never had a glass of wine leave me speechless, especially not a Chardonnay.