Watercolour-style pink rose with grey-green leaves tattooed on the inner forearm of a person wearing a black jacket.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink rose on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A pink rose with soft petal shading and a small bud sits on the inner arm, with several grey-green leaves and stems around it. The linework is light and the shading is soft and blended, giving a painted, watercolour look. The tattoo is set against pale skin and a plain light background, with a dark jacket and sleeve at the top of the frame.

Botanical Forearm Rose Leaves Bud Stem Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The gulls had started sitting on the bows again, and Tamsin Rowe came down to the harbour wall with her paint pot before the tide had turned. Every hull in Penmorrow carried a rose on its bow, painted by whoever was left to paint it, and every spring the salt took a little more of them back. She knelt on the cold stones and dabbed rose-pink into the petals of the Mary Ellen, then sat back on her heels to let the gulls see what they were getting.

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Her son Daniel had taken the Mary Ellen out on the Tuesday, sixteen and sure of the weather, and the glass had dropped while he was still past the outer skerries. Nobody said much after that. People left pilchards on her step wrapped in the Gazette and told her the boy was clever with an engine. Tamsin kept painting. On the stern of every boat that came in safe she put a small closed bud, and on the stern of the Mary Ellen she painted nothing at all, because she could not yet bear to finish it.

On the first Sunday in April the Mary Ellen came round the point with her engine coughing and a stranger at the tiller, a grey-haired man with a bandage round one hand. He said the boy had been lifted off a rock, cold but breathing, and had asked him to tell Tamsin the roses were holding. She went down to the slip without her shawl. The bow was scoured bare by the weather, but the stern still showed the pale ghost of the bud she had sketched in pencil.

She climbed aboard, took the brush from her apron, and opened the bud one petal at a time until the whole thing blushed pink in the wind.