the train chugging and hooting
sliding past an expanse of water
misty and blue
with purple fringes
my heart belongs to the city
the inter-textural fibers of my soul
are made of concrete, glass and steel
my wings float and soar
on the thudding notes of saxophones in the tunnels
the many faces of people
the freedom to be yourself
un-discriminated and accepted
this is the center of the volcano
where the magma churns the energy
for the past and many to come
summer in the city
yet i try to escape
to see the trees waving at me in the breeze
limbs outstretched toward the sky
nodding to the world
in a short moment of bliss
i get closer to the urban compound
travel in under-passes with graffiti-inscribed walls
pass factories and smoke stacks
mounds of blue and red containers next to the water
the sky is white
monotone and unstreaked by clouds
oona's looking glass 
the inter-textural fibers of my soul
are made of concrete, glass and steel
Great lines. I am not a city person, so hearing a city person with inter-textural fibers in her soul talk about longing to be out of the city seems natural to me. But, the last stanza (which is melodic) tells me that you don’t mean it. The abstract painting is great.
I studied architecture and in that sense concrete, glass and steel have a certain allure. At the point in time when I wrote that poem I had also never lived outside of a large city…the urban texture is something that somehow shaped me. I do long for nature and yes the last stanza gives that away I would say. Thanks for your comment!