Peter couldn't help as the tears streamed down his face. He didn't care if he was surrounded by superheroes. His idol was dead. His father-figure was dead. 

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

He had watched them lower the casket into the ground. He had been invited to the private ceremony. It was just him, Ms. Stark, Morgan, and a kid named Harley. 

I am not there. I do not sleep.

It seemed like the tears still streamed down his face as he walked into Aunt May's apartment. She had pulled him into a tight hug. Words of apology streamed from her mouth. 

I am a thousand winds that blow.

He went on patrol every night. He had no right to be selfish. The city still needed him. He would not let them down because of his personal life. 

I am the diamond glints on snow.

The sadness never seemed to leave him. It seemed to get heavier with every moment. How could he ever be a hero if he couldn't deal with loss? 

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

School hadn't gotten any better. If anything, it had gotten worse. Peter had been getting less and less sleep every night. He could see Mr. Stark in every person he let down. He didn't want to see him anymore. 

I am the gentle autumn rain.

It had become common practice for Peter to dream about what might have happened if Mr. Stark had survived. He began to wish for nightmares instead of the beautiful lies his mind was telling. 

When you waken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush.

After a year, things got better. He liked to visit Ms. Stark and Morgan at least once a month, just to check up on how they were doing. May had become great friends with Pepper, and Peter had become a big brother to Morgan.

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

He liked to look at the stars, too. Sometimes he spoke to them, pretending Mr. Stark could hear him up in heaven, because there wasn't even a chance he had gone anywhere else. 

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

He would often visit Mr. Stark's grave as well. He would talk about what he had done recently. How he was doing in school. What he had done around town to help. Sometimes he would cry. 

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

Peter had realized long ago that the pain would never fully subside. It hadn't with his parents, or with Uncle Ben either, if he was being honest. It had never disappeared, but that was a good thing. It meant he still cared. Even now that Morgan was graduating college and he was there in the front row to cheer. Just like Mr. Stark would have. Even when Ms. Stark lived and died. He was by her side, and by Morgan's. He would always feel the pain, but he would never cry. That wasn't what Mr. Stark wanted.

I am not there. I did not die.