Colour botanical tattoo of three red poppies with black centres and green stems and leaves, placed on a person's upper back near the shoulder blade.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red poppies on upper back

Botanical · Back · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows three red poppy flowers with dark centres and yellow highlights, joined by green stems and a large serrated green leaf at the base. The petals are shaded with darker red tones along their edges and folds, and the linework is dark and fairly bold. The flowers are arranged diagonally across the upper back, with the person's face turned away and only partly visible at the top of the frame.

Botanical Back Poppy Flower Leaf Stem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The reunion was held in the old schoolhouse, because the church hall had been sold and the new one was in the next parish. Mabel Coyle came with a tin of shortbread and a grudge, and she set both down on the trestle table beside Ruth Pantling, who had not spoken to her since the summer they were twelve. Nobody remembered the cause of it. Everybody remembered the field.

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The field ran behind the school, down to the railway cutting, and every June it went red with poppies. Teacher used to say the seeds slept in the ground for years, waiting for a plough to wake them. Ruth and Mabel had pulled up a whole row of them one lunchtime, racing to see who could carry the most stems back to the classroom, and the sap had stained their wrists green. Mr Hebden made them stand in the corridor with their hands behind their backs. The stems wilted in the heat of the radiator and left their fingers smelling bitter.

Over the tea urn that evening, Mabel asked Ruth whether she still kept any of those flowers pressed in a book. Ruth said she had one small head left, pressed flat in a dictionary. Mabel said she had never opened her own, because she had been afraid the petals would come apart in her hands. They sat with that for a while, until the caretaker switched off the lights and the old voices thinned out of the room.

On the walk back to the bus, they cut across the field, which was fenced now and full of barley. At the edge, where the cutting began, a single poppy stood up through the stubble, red and bent at the neck. Ruth bent to it and tucked it behind Mabel's ear. Neither of them said sorry. They had waited thirty years for the seed to wake, and it had, which was enough.