Teresa is my aunt's black cat;
She plays with this, she plays with that--
A tassel green, a string to tug,
A fleck of light upon the rug
Give her imagination fire.
And then she sleeps all in a ball
Beside the hearth out in the hall.
She loves to warm herself this way,
And dreams, this time, about her play--
While cuddled up she purrs and purrs.
When tea time comes, she's always there,
Beside my aunt's old walnut chair;
Her big green eyes are bright with glee,
Her chin sinks in a creamy sea,
And her ecstasy is complete.