Please rewrite in the style of Samuel Beckett

In the still life, life is still,
Objects poised and motionless
A banquet, frozen in time's chill,
Awaiting feasters, but none to bless.

A morbid beauty, this array
Of food and drink, untouched, unknown
A tale of life, or so they say,
But life's departure here is shown.

The silence echoes, loud and clear
No sounds of laughter, clinking glass
No scents of food to greet the ear
Just stillness, stillness, en masse.

In this tableau, time stands still
The banquet is, but not for whom
A lifeless life, a deathly thrill
A monument to time's own tomb.