Harvest

This was written for a poetry contest with a picture prompt.

The seeds are sown, and
yet, to unknowing eyes,
the ground is barren --
windswept, yet beautiful.

What is your facade but
a seed of insecurity, blossomed?
Are you really so barren?
Their words are only
drops of rain, their approval
burning, nurturing sun.
Are they really so beautiful?

Come fall we will see
them -- rows and rows of
could-have-been beautiful
people, withered by burning
sun and drowning rain.

But you,
you will be strong
and green
and genuine.
You are beautiful.

[24 lines]