What do you think of this poem?

I really need help with it, thanks. Sales Pitch To My Memory A white washed house, towering tall In a busy parking lot; a monument of protest against the Parkview plaza. A neighborhood that looped 'round back, and a private road, often traveled. Ivory covered houses behind pink petal storms, like faces behind veils against a backdrop of woods. A little girl, a red tricycle, and a blue dress, threadbare, yet loved. A little boy, and his group of friends, 10 speed bikes and mean faces- a challenge and a chase, to a lost little girl, and a highway that led her to other places, to other homes and other townships and cities. To schools, boarding schools and finally other states. To downtown excursions, late night rituals, and first drunken tirades. Tales of sabotage at the hands of friends, and plotted escapes. To the trailer in a trailer park, the first home and a small spending spree. A fake diamond ring and plans for a wedding. To a broken union and baby's first kick, the birth, and a proud mother, a bewildered mother, behind a smile, hand me downs, and unplanned plans. A trip back home, and another shot at family life, a second first home in a basement. Hung pictures, simmering stew, and seasoned sachets. A white wooden crib and a screaming tot, a screaming pot, screaming parents, and slamming doors. Slamming doors against mothers who drop their kids like gift baskets upon your lap, a diaper bag and its contents spilling across the floor; cased secrets spinning upon a shelf, and a shaking room against screaming, screaming , and falling knick knacks. And then tickets upon a night stand, a quickly scrawled letter, and a ragged suitcase, threadbare, yet loved. and a plan, a half hearted plan to get away. But not until years later, when ripples settle, and waters have since stilled, with a child half grown and plans of her own, on some random event. A requested stop along the way, and a brief pause beneath a sycamore tree. A view like an old Polaroid, scanned and doctored in a photo shop- a living window. A small paved lot, a small gray house, and a suspicious string of tiny shops. The same size they have always been.
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Help, what kind of help? You have a gift for storytelling and image creating. I really liked it.
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