We just witnessed the "double rainbow" of all sunrises.
Stumbling our way across Northwick Park, the night before melting into the morning after without a wink in between. 
Morning dew adorns itself to the freshly cut grass, as if someone came during the night and took a microscopic bedazzler to every perky green blade, willing or not.
A thick white fog envelops us as we descend into the misty unknown. Time and worries are temporarily suspended, just like our warm exhalations hitting the brisk Harrow air. It's as if we've ascended into the clouds, and we've become infinite.
Somehow the darkness of night managed to slip away, like a regretful one night stand, before we had a chance to realize it.
The skyline is fading from deep magenta, to shades of violet and baby blue; the backdrop of the glorious sun that's about to take center stage. 
Beams of warm light cut their way through the fog and trees, hugging our bodies and dancing across our retinas.
We become momentarily frozen in awe, before breaking out and running and twirling and skipping and laughing in the golden light.
We admire our black silhouettes against the rising sun, like shadows ripped off of the ground and given a corporeal form.
The caked-on beer on my boots has been replaced by a 5 o'clock shadow of grass clippings.
A single white dandelion stands on the field, daring to be plucked, beads of moisture disguising it as a mini disco ball.
"Make a wish."
