My son cycles as fast as he can

Freewheeling through empty void decks, a lonely multi-purpose hall, a vacant square

Abandoned playgrounds hastily enshrouded in hazard tape

And as I run after him, I can’t help but wonder,

Where have all the children gone?

Just months ago, they used to fill the warm, sundrenched afternoons

With the pitter-patter of scrambling feet, with screams of indignation and jollity, the jibber-jabber of little squabbles

Here on the playground, alliances were forged and friendships quickly made

Playgroups were amorphous, leaderless, organically formed

Filled with riotous, jubilant, free-ranging kids

The older ones sprinting, long strides on spindly legs,

And the youngest toddling along, struggling to keep up in the throng

Yet now, there’s only deafening silence and absence in their place

Where have all the children gone?

It seems they have all been spirited away

Sequestered at home where they

While away the hours

Arrested by the gentle glow of their blue-light devices

Safe, secure, sanitised and silent

And suddenly my son turns to look at me,

With his big, questioning eyes

This two-year-old who sees so much, but is not yet very wise

I wonder if he misses his friends; the Ming boys and their dad who cheered him on as he clumsily whacked their floorball stick;

Little Farishah and her sister who pushed him on the swings;

His best mates Tanay and Caleb who played ball and catch

Or can he no longer remember a life

Where children used to come to play

To run wild, and free and unmasked all day?

I wonder where have all the children gone

And will they ever return?

Or is this yet another slice of life

We’ve lost, and will never have again?