Colour botanical tattoo of a blue crescent moon with pink roses and green vines wrapping around the upper thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon and roses on the thigh

Botanical · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A blue crescent moon sits on the outer thigh, with pink roses and small coral flowers clustered against it. Thin green vines, leaves and fern-like fronds trail away in both directions around the leg. The fine linework and soft colour fills are set against bare skin, with a white skirt and a hand holding it at the top of the frame.

Botanical Fine line Thigh Crescent moon Moon Rose Flower Vine Leaves Fern

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming sideways off the river since six, and the awning over my stall sagged like a wet sheet. I had three dozen pink roses left and nobody buying roses at half past nine on a Tuesday. So I did what my father always did when trade died: I started tidying the things nobody wanted to look at, which in my case meant the fern fronds curling off the back rail and the tangle of trailing vine I kept meaning to cut down.

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Dimitri from the clock stall next door leaned over the partition with a tin crescent moon in his hands. He had painted it a deep, stubborn blue years ago for a shop sign that never got hung, and he'd been using it as a paperweight ever since. "Put this among the flowers," he said. "Rain makes everything look like it's been dropped in the sea. The moon will remind them it's still night somewhere." I told him the moon was for sale at four pounds, and he told me to stop being a shopkeeper and be a poet for five minutes.

A woman came under the awning with a folded umbrella that had lost half its spokes. She was looking for something to take home, she said, because her mother's garden had been paved over and she wanted one thing that still grew. I wrapped the roses in damp newspaper, tucked a sprig of fern and a length of vine into the bundle, and set the blue moon on top like a lid. She paid in coins and a brass button, and I didn't argue.

When she had gone, the lights came on at the far end of the market and the rain turned to silver under them. I stood there with the cash tin and the button in my palm, and I found I was smiling at nothing, sure that somewhere a cutting was already finding its feet in a sunlit yard I would never see.