Soft-toned floral tattoo of pink blooms and grey-green leaves on a forearm, set against a textured pale wall.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink floral bouquet on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A raised forearm and hand are shown against a textured plaster wall. A cluster of pink roses or peonies, grey-green leaves and small yellowish petals sits on the forearm, with soft edges and painterly shading. The colour is muted and the bouquet is placed diagonally down the arm.

Botanical Forearm Flower Rose Peony Leaves Bouquet

Find an artist for this

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

You reach the castle at dusk with mud to your knees and a letter from your aunt folded inside your coat. The gatehouse has lost its portcullis to the ivy, and the great hall is open to the sky. Nobody has lived here since the Hallorans sold the roof for lead. But the kitchen garden behind the chapel still keeps its walls, and that is where the caretaker, Mrs Idris Penhale, is waiting with a pair of shears.

Keep reading

She does not greet you. She walks you along a path of broken tiles to a bed where old damask roses have run wild, their pink heads heavy and nodding over the grey-green leaves. "Your aunt planted these the spring she married," she says. "Every bush is a different year." You kneel, because the ground is soft, and cut the first bloom where the stem is still tender. The petals are papery and cool, and a few yellowed ones drift onto your sleeve like scraps of old letters.

All evening you cut, and she ties the stems with twine, saying nothing about the will or the bank or the solicitor from Truro who wants the land by Friday. By the time the bats come out you have a bouquet the size of a lamp. Penhale holds it up against the last grey light and frowns at the colour, the way a painter frowns at a wash that has gone too pale.

"That'll do," she says. "Take them to the grave. Then you can tell him the garden kept its promise." At the chapel door you look back. The walls still stand, and the roses have already begun to drop their petals onto the path, one for every year you were away.