Beneath the lights of White Street’s glow, A beacon shone where friends would go, Las Margaritas, warm and bright, Where laughter lingered every night.
The tables hummed with stories told, Of sizzling plates and drinks of gold, A place where strangers turned to friends, And every meal refused to end.
The colors danced on stuccoed walls, Mariachi echoes through the halls, The air was thick with love and song, A home for hearts that stayed too long.
But silence came, the doors grew still, The windows dark upon the hill, An empty street, a quiet sign, A ghost of joy we thought was mine.
Yet hope still stirs like chili’s flame, A whispered prayer, a spoken name, That one day soon those doors will part, And welcome back each waiting heart.
So raise a glass though shadows stay, Las Margaritas lights our way, For though it sleeps, it breathes again, A dream of meals with dearest friends.