Sound

 I found turn of the roses petals,

Reminded me of the curled metals,

Which were infra of all the Beatles,

Squared in the crossroad near the mountain motels,

The motels were the fantasy of fountains,

Of hot and cold mixed destinations of destinations,

Where Angels were ventured with mountains,

The mountains are tall and broad, ups and downs;

Thriving with the life inside the mountain with hustle,

How lives thrived of organisms in the caves whistles,

Like how fox neck like a meteor when yawning, dazzles,

Anyway the life triggered on the tip of mountain nozzles,

I walked all the mountain to gear up like rose petals round &round,

Like a planet moves thoroughly around,

Gazing stars witnessed the journey on the ground,

I think these are the time when one gets diplomatic voice & its sound.