Three wrists held together, each with a fine line black flower tattoo: a sprig of buds on the left, a daisy in the centre and a blossom on the right.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Three matching flower tattoos on wrists

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Three wrists are held together, each carrying a small botanical tattoo. The left wrist shows a delicate sprig with several small buds and blossoms, the centre wrist a daisy-like flower on a thin stem, and the right wrist a larger five-petalled bloom. The linework is fine and black, with no shading or colour, and the wrists fill most of the frame against a patterned background.

Fine line Botanical Other Flower Daisy Blossom Sprig Bud Stem

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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

Dear Ruth, the officer at Sennet Bridge held my passport up to the lamp for so long I thought the glue would give. Behind him a radio was playing something with accordions, and the queue stretched back past the lorry park where the puddles had frozen into little mirrors. I had the envelope with the pressed flowers tucked inside my coat, the ones from Mother's field, and I kept my hand flat over it the whole time as if it might blow away.

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He asked what I was carrying. I said paper, which was true. He slid the envelope open and found the sprig of blossom we pressed the spring we were eleven, gone the colour of weak tea and so thin you could read the newsprint through the petals. He held it a long moment. Then he said his gran had done the same with hawthorn, and he stamped the page without asking anything else.

I am writing this on the bus on the far side, with the heater rattling against my knee. I keep looking at my wrist, where the little daisy sits beside the ink of your blossom and Ingrid's five petals. The three of us holding hands across that field, each certain she would be the one to go first, and none of us able to say which of us would be left to keep the others' flowers safe.

Well, I went first. You will have to come on Thursday. Bring the bloom from the top of the hill, the one with the most petals, and we will press it together at the kitchen table where we always did. Tell the officers whatever you like. They have seen worse than flowers. Love, Mags.