In Rhyme 2.0

Well, I ran the original by my Mom, my best critic, and she shot it down in flames. But my poems are like phoenixes: they rise from the ashes. So here's the new and hopefully improved version.

In Rhyme
Imagine we spoke in poetry, you and I.
If I left out a line, you could fill it
and the emptiness would disappear.
For now, my words are lacking wit,
and the silence holds my fear
for I can’t speak in rhyme.

The cadence falls short, we’re losing time.
If you could read my face a little bit
we might discuss it and draw near
and we would see the rhythm fits.
But sadly speechless, we don’t hear
the brush strokes of our minds.

The images I have become these lines.
If picture perfect never quit
or I was skillful at being clear,
what color painting would transmit
the thoughts that I hold dear
and would the dyes entwine?

---------

Please tell me what you think. Better? Worse? Some parts better, some parts worse? Be specific, please. Bring on the flamethrower. =)