Black botanical tattoo of a leafy tree with roots in a circular shape on the inner wrist, shown in a close-up and a wider view.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Leafy tree with roots on the wrist

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a stylised tree with branches, pointed leaves and exposed roots, arranged within a rounded outline. It is drawn with clean, solid black linework and filled black leaves, with no shading or grey tones. The left photo is a close crop of the wrist, and the right photo shows the whole hand and wrist against a light background, with the tattoo smaller in the frame.

Botanical Forearm Tree Leaves Root Branches

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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

Nobody claimed the seedling for eleven weeks, so Ruth Calloway started watering it herself. It had been left on platform four in a Quality Street tin, its roots wrapped in the Evening Standard, and the lost property office was the only place in Harrowgate Junction that would take it. She set the tin on the sill above the ticket tallies, where the radiator ticked and the morning light came in sideways off the sidings.

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The roots found the drainage holes within a fortnight and started pushing down through the tin's rusted base toward the cold stone of the sill. Ruth noticed them only because the tin began to sit a little crooked. Passengers asked about it at the hatch, mostly children, who wanted to know if it was a real tree or a pretend one. She told them it was waiting for someone with a stamp and a good reason to collect it, which was not strictly true but seemed the kinder answer.

On the twelfth Thursday a man in a grey coat came to the counter and said his late mother had grown a tree like it from a cutting taken off the hedge beside the level crossing at Thornber. The hedge had gone in the spring. He didn't ask for the tin. He asked whether anyone had looked after it, and Ruth said she had, and he nodded as if she'd confirmed a timetable.

When he left she lifted the tin and found one leaf had torn loose and fallen behind it. She pressed it flat in the ledger where the lost things were written down, under the umbrellas and the spectacles, and wrote a single word beside it: claimed.