Where I'm From by Wesley Dirmeyer

I’m from little chipped blue coffee cups
            Heart covered ceramic plates.
I’m from the dirt pit in the backyard
            Wasted hours and toys.
I’m from the shed, trapped, waiting in a hail storm
            Holding onto big shaggy dogs.
I’m from the little green Tonka train
            Riding through the house
I’m from the church sinners now
            Entire family packed in.
I’m from the sound of open fields
            Wind blowing leaves.
Yet I’m still from the crowded streets
            Walking home alone.
I’m from the empty house
            Microwave dinner.
Now I’m from the crowded apartment
            Filled with dolls and make-up.
I’m from the bad father
            Only lesson was how to be a good one.
In my room is my staple, my lifeline, my jukebox,   
            Filling the house with happier times and sad memories
            Carrying on the party for everyone else.

Memories talk and tell you all about a person and where they come from. The tiny small memories are always the ones that can tell you the most about someone.