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Edward Martin Pratt

of

Cambridge, England, UK

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mloderst@sng.uni-frankfurt.de (Edward Martin Pratt )


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by

Edward Martin Pratt

A soul so lost and confused so much.
He wondered and stared and wandered so much.

Unsure in his footsteps, bad footing he found.
Falling was graceful, but there was no ground.
No ground to fall to, to hurt or to harm.
No floor, no pathway, no nothing - just calm.

That soul so lost in that shadowy world.
Searching in vane for that forgotten girl.

Evading his efforts to search her out -
he spotted and shouted but she merely stepped out.
Stepped out of his vision, his sense and his life.

He screamed and he woke and he wept and he sighed.
A fool he had been, it couldn't work out.
Her image, it faded - that candle blown out.


Blue - The Colour of My Heart

by

Edward Martin Pratt

Lusted, loved and lost.
A tragic trail so frequently crossed.
Our hearts that burned brightly in times of passion,
fall to ashes in times of pain.

I trusted you whilst you trusted me.
Our bodies together and minds so free.

But jealousy entered and love stepped aside.
Our hearts split in two - our paths now divide.


Lost (Sometimes I Cry)

by

Edward Martin Pratt

I turn left and right again and walk
on forwards but meet with more pain.

Another bad move I had made again, or
so I thought 'please no more pain.'

Wandering aimlessly hoping to find,
that 'perfect person' in that field of mines.
Unless you step forwards you'll never find out,
if that floor will hold or if that bottom blows
out.

The pain it lingers and you're scarred for some time.
But there's no other way to find that perfect
mine.