Angels or Dust

I catch glimpses of them in the wind. They dance between my curtains in the morning and late afternoon, trapped within sunbeams. I try to catch them, but whenever we touch, they vanish. Mother says they're angels. Father says they're dust. I chase the lighted specks that seem so friendly and alive. They must be angels. Father says I will stumble and fall from not looking where I am going, but always I am chasing them, and always they elude me. They can't escape me forever, though. One day I will join them, and they will tell me their secrets.