scene from a kieslowski short

Standing here with my cigarette
for company,
I spy upon a young man
trudging through the sheet of snow
blanketing the earth -
he walks with deliberation,
head bowed, coffee-mug-armed hand
swinging by his side,
a bag slung across his shoulder;
as though a scene from a Kieslowski film
(how that name rolls off the tongue,
Kieslowski), I see his silhoutte now
spotting another - a girl it seems -
walking in the other direction.
They pause. She leans in,
I hear her laughter ringing over
the snowy quietness and they hug,
linger a moment or two,
push themselves in opposite directions,
pause and make promises to meet again
(I imagine) - a study in human companionship.
They walk away from each other,
he looks back at her, and again.
Only one silhouette now.
He pauses, seems to sigh,
disappears behind the copse
of trees, bare for their winter sleep.
A scene from a Kieslowski short.