listening to mozart

i have not any chances
but now i've got a home
there are no sudden glances
none of us have to roam
a deer in the night prances
the sky's a distant dome
no time now for romances
we close the heavy tome

a house upon the hillside
behind us there's a pond
never a one who will ride
no power left to bond
all of us here must feel pride
no need to wave a wand
we do not have to still hide
behind a leafy frond

no lions roam the nighttime
there are no warriors here
we listen to a windchime
a pleasure to the ear
adding the juice of one lime
brings many memories near
each poem has a plain rhyme
holding a thought so dear