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…