I took a walk
in the estate years ago
Searching high and low
for a magical variety
Eventually in my hand
some grapes held,
Black Pinot or white Chardonnay
I can’t say,
The finest according to the rules in
specific plots.
Within the thick-walled bottle
they screamed and yelled
Under intense pressure
these refined bubbles grew
Royal sparkles thrived
and shone, while
Lees, those dead yeast cells,
must quietly go
Distinguished, Réserve Impériale,
bursting to serve.
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