Split Second Chameleon Poem by David Taylor

So strange that in split seconds
the future can change hue,
rosy and bright fast becomes blue
greyed out of ashen hopes;

so very strange that what was full of hope
suddenly becomes a sieve holding
only worthless rocks and dried dust,
and of course none of it ever was,
or is, the future;

only an imagination of what it holds
as now pretends to move forward,
but resolutely stays here,
and sends me running from dreams,
of my tomorrow.