Colour tattoo of a pink rose with small pink flowers and green leaves on a forearm, in a botanical style with dark outlines.

Pink rose and flowers on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A large pink rose sits at the centre of a bouquet of small five-petalled flowers, green leaves and sprigs, with a few dark foliage shapes at the edges. Bold black outlines define the petals and leaves, with soft pink, green and blue-grey shading creating depth. The design wraps around the forearm and is set against a blurred pale grey background.

Botanical Neo-trad Forearm Rose Flower Leaves Blossom Foliage Sprig

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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 kiosk on platform four opens at half five, and by six you have wrapped three bunches in brown paper, the stems still cold from the wholesale van. The woman who comes in off the 6.12 from Leeds wants something for a funeral, not a birthday, and she says so before you ask. You don't ask. You pull the pink roses from the bucket, the ones with outer petals loose enough to look as if a thumb has pressed them open, and you reach for the small white five-petalled flowers that Dennis always called stars.

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Dennis taught you to cut on the slant under running water and to strip the lower third of every stem so nothing rots in the stand. He taught you that a bouquet should look as if it grew by accident against a wall, which is why you tuck the sprigs in low and let the dark leaves spill over the edge. She watches your hands the whole time. She doesn't speak until the paper is folded and tied with string, and then she says her mother grew roses in a yard behind a terrace in Hunslet, and that she never once managed to keep one alive.

Dennis retires on Friday. By then the booth will have a new name on the rota and a different smell of tea in the back room. At ten past seven you step out for your break as the 7.04 pulls in, and you find a single rose still in your hand, bruised a little at the rim, the one you should have sold. You hold it out to the first passenger who looks at you as if you might be selling something. She hesitates, then takes it, and the doors close with her standing on the platform, turning it slowly in the light.