The speaker stands alone in the house they grew up in, remembering how its walls and floors looked after them as a child. At first the memories are warm: carpets that cushioned falls, halls that once echoed with loving voices. But the light is fading, and the mood turns from nostalgia to fear. The speaker calls for their mum and for help, and only their own voice comes back, which feels suffocating rather than comforting.
In the second part, the title "Regression" becomes literal. Memory blurs, the legs give way, speech slurs, and the speaker seems to slip back into infancy, a baby who cannot walk or talk. The poem suggests someone growing helpless, whether through age, confusion or something more symbolic. The broken, trailing punctuation mirrors that unravelling. The final line is the saddest: the house knew them as a baby, but they no longer know who, if anyone, can hear them. The overall mood is eerie, vulnerable and deeply lonely.