Black anchor tattoo on the inner forearm, wrapped with pink and purple roses, pale pink blossom and green leaves, in a botanical style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Anchor with roses and blossom on a wrist

Botanical · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A black anchor runs vertically across the inner forearm, with its shank and flukes filled in solid black. Pink and purple roses, pale pink blossom and green leaves climb along the shank, softening the heavy black form. The colour flowers are set against plain pale skin and a light background, with the anchor centred in the frame.

Botanical Forearm Anchor Rose Blossom Flower Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The chain came up through the hawse pipe streaming weed, and Mr Pryce swore at it the way he swore at everything, but you were already leaning over the bow to see what had caught on the flukes. You had expected rope, or a drowned crate of tinned peaches. Instead there was a tangle of briar as thick as your wrist, and wedged in it, a clay pot that had once held a rose.

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Pryce took the pot from you without a word and turned it over in his big scarred hands. Someone had painted a name on the side, half worn away, a woman's name, and under it a date from the year the Marigold sailed out of Falmouth with the lamps lit and nobody on the quay waving. He said the ship had been carrying cuttings for a botanist in Valparaiso, and that the cases had gone over in a squall off the Horn. You doubted that. You doubted most things Pryce said, but you liked the way he said them.

That night you sat on the forecastle with your knees up and a cup of cold tea, and you pulled the briar apart with your fingers until you found the rose inside it, pink and stubborn, its one bloom gone the colour of old paper. You pressed it into your notebook between the pages where you had been writing your sums. In the morning the wind was steady from the west and the anchor was stowed again, but the pot sat on the rail by the wheel, catching spray, and nobody moved it.