Pac-Man Memories

The arcade hum, a low electric thrum, A symphony of quarters one by one. And there you were, a bright, insistent yellow, A simple circle chasing what would follow. That iconic waka-waka sound, Echoing through the space, all around. A maze of blue, a comforting design, Where power pellets glowed, a hopeful sign. Blinky, Pinky, Inky, Clyde, the spectral crew, Their hungry eyes forever fixed on you. A frantic dance, a sudden, sharp reverse, When fear took hold and you became the curse. Those juicy dots, a steady, small reward, A constant munching never feeling bored. The thrill of clearing rows, a perfect sweep, While ghosts turned blue, their lethal chase asleep. The bonus fruit, a fleeting, tasty prize, A cherry red before your very eyes. The level climbs, the speed begins to sting, But muscle memory makes your joystick sing. A lost life flickers, another chance to seize, To navigate the maze with practiced ease. That simple joy of outsmarting foes, A pixelated hero everyone knows. Now screens are wider, graphics sharp and grand, But nothing matches that old joystick in my hand. The ghost of Pac-Man in that blue-lined space, A nostalgic echo time cannot erase. ©bfa040625