Anchor tattoo filled with pink and red flowers and leaves on the back of a hand, resting on kraft paper.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Floral anchor on the back of a hand

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A hand rests on a kraft paper background with a black anchor design on the back of it. The anchor outline is solid black and its interior is filled with small pink, red and green florals. The design appears flat and sits neatly on the skin, and it may be a temporary tattoo rather than an inked one.

Traditional Botanical Hand Anchor Flower Leaves Hand

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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 Pavilion at Marwick Sands smells of brine and brilliantine by eight, and you are late, which Mrs Ferris will mention before you reach the cloakroom. The band is already halfway through "Moonlight Bay" when you slip through the side doors, a trumpet cutting through the haze of Woodbines. Someone has hung a paper anchor above the bandstand, its arms wound with pressed paper roses from the florist on Crane Street, because the committee insisted the summer dance needed a theme and the sea was the only one anybody could agree on.

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Dennis from the lifeboat crew asks you for the foxtrot. He treads on your toes twice and apologises both times, and on the third turn he tells you about the real anchor at the top of the slipway, the one from his father's boat, lost off the Skerries in the winter of '51. Brambles have grown through its flukes since. Nobody has had the heart to cut them back. The trumpet slides into a waltz and he steers you past the open doors, where the sea is the colour of pewter and as quiet as a held breath.

Out on the terrace, Ivy from the florist's is perched on the railing with a spool of wire and a pot of glue, mending a rose that has lost a petal to the wind. She holds it up without looking at you. "For your coat," she says. "Every anchor wants something soft to hold on to." You take it. Below, the tide has turned and is working its way up the shingle, and when you look back through the glass Dennis is still standing alone on the dance floor, watching the space you left, one hand half raised as if to ask again.