To you who write my dreams ,I give my thanks

To you who write my dreams ,I give my thanks
Please, not at my old school with wet pants
I do not want to get  a prize again
Nor wonder  how I differ from Big Ben

I do not wish to enter  maths exams
With questions on  straight lines that run like trams
Nor draw a graph of lost ellipse on ice
Nor study any science needing knives

I do not wish to sit on a hard chair
I’m 97  though I say my prayers
I’d rather dream of Langdale Pikes in snow
How to send a message? I don’t know

How befriend a writer  we can’t see
Or  more important,  who  will befriend me?