Black line drawing of two leafy branches curving up from crossed stems at the base, with small dots above, shown as a botanical tattoo design on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crossed leafy branches in a V shape

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

The drawing shows two slender branches, each lined with small oval leaves, rising symmetrically from a crossed pair of stems at the bottom to form a V or open wreath shape. Three small dots sit above each branch end. The linework is clean and even in black ink, with no shading, and the design is isolated on a plain white background.

Botanical Fine line Branch Leaves Wreath Stem Dot

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wire is cold again this morning, and the privet has gone brittle at the tips, so you tie the sprigs by feel rather than sight. Mrs Oddie wants a wreath for Thursday, a V of green she can pin above the door of the Ocean Pavilion before the council men come round with their clipboards. You cross the two stems at the bottom the way your father taught you, one over, one under, and pull until the twine bites.

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Along the pier the lights are going out one bulb at a time. The circus that used to pitch on the sands has folded its tent for good, and its ringmaster now sells raffle tickets outside the chippy. He stopped by at seven with a box of programmes nobody wanted and asked whether you had any leaves spare for the ponies. You told him no. You gave him a handful anyway, bay and laurel off the back wall, and watched him carry them away like a man carrying a crown he had not earned.

Each branch needs its little oval leaves set in pairs, the way the old poster showed them, and you do the left side first, counting under your breath. Eleven pairs. Nine on the right, because the right stem was always stubborn. When you finish, three seeds are left in the cardboard tray, and you press them to the air above each tip as if they might take root in the salt wind.

On Thursday the council men will not look up. Mrs Oddie will, though, and she will say it looks like a pair of arms opening. You wipe the twine from your thumbs and go to find the ponies' hay.