Wind Chime Child

A contest entry for the Take My Phrase Please Round 18

Sitting on a stoop somewhere in a town
Is a little boy, who stares with eyes a dark brown
Too young, he should be, to have thoughts so deep
Circles under his eyes show he does not sleep

His youth is a leaf, bound to fall too fast
But he keeps moving forwards, running from the past
Darkness comes towards him; every day his fears grow
Yet a brave face appears, so the fear cannot show

Today is a special day, one like none before
The boy on this day, found something he did adore
A wind chime made of silver pieces, that sang like a bird
And as he watched that chime, something odd occurred

The wind chime child, a boy that childhood left behind,
Smiled and laughed at the joyous sound, letting worry drift from his mind