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The lights dimmed low, a hush descended near,
A single spotlight banishing all fear
Or so we hoped, a tremor in the hand,
Before the host in this enchanted land.

The music swelled, a heartbeat in the air,
Each rising note, a burden hard to bear.
A question flashed, a choice of letters four,
A million dreams upon that fragile floor.

Remember Regis with his knowing gaze,
His gentle prodding through the hazy maze?
"Is that your final answer?" hung so deep,
While seconds ticked and secrets hearts would keep.

The lifeline calls, a lifeline to the past,
A friend, a family hoping truth would last.
The fifty-fifty, a cruel and welcome friend,
To halve the doubt until the very end.

The audience poll, a murmur in the crowd,
Their whispered wisdom spoken not aloud
But felt so strongly, a collective plea,
"Please choose it right for all the world to see!"

The tension built, a tangible embrace,
As higher stakes illuminated time and space.
Each rung achieved, a victory hard-won,
The fear of falling, 'til the very sun
Of that grand prize, a beacon in the night,
Could blind with glory or extinguish light.

We sat at home upon our humble chairs,
Imagining the weight of millionaires.
The thrill, the risk, the agonizing wait,
To see if fortune would unlock the gate.

Though years have passed, the memory remains,
Of that bright stage and those exhilarating pains.
A simpler time, perhaps, a shared delight,
In watching fortunes won within the night.
The Millionaire's Game, a nostalgic gleam,
A long-lost echo of a hopeful dream.

©bfa041525

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