Black and grey tattoo of a tree inside a geometric diamond outline on the forearm, with a solid black circle and three vertical lines above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Tree in a geometric diamond on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a tree with a full, stippled canopy and a fine-lined trunk and branches, enclosed in a tall diamond outline. A solid black circle sits above the diamond, with three short vertical lines beneath it. The foliage is built from dense dots, while the trunk and outline use clean single lines, and the composition is centred along the length of the forearm.

Dotwork Geometric Botanical Forearm Tree Circle Diamond Line Foliage Branches Outline

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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

Sit down, the four-ten is late again, so you've time for this. There was a lime tree at the top of Carrow Bank, the only one for three miles, and the men who laid the line used to eat their bread in its shade. Ambrose Tull, the stationmaster, had one rule above all others: nothing was to be cut from that tree, not a twig, not a leaf, not so much as a name carved in the bark.

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Then the company sent surveyors with their chains and their pegs. They wanted a new platform, longer, straight as a ruler, and the lime stood right where the rails should run. Eliza Marr came up from the signal box that November with a ball of twine and a notebook, and she pegged out a diamond on the frosty ground, tall and narrow, with the tree at its heart. Three drops of rain hit the page as she wrote. Above the bank the sun hung low and black, the only colour the sky had left.

The surveyors laughed and went back to the office, and the engineers argued for a month. In the end they drew the platform in a bend around the trunk, a long curve like a bow, and the trains have stopped there ever since. Tull died in his chair with his watch in his hand, and Eliza kept the diamond of pegs for thirty years until the wood rotted and she had to replace each one.

So when the carriage doors open at the bend, and you step down onto that curved stone, you'll find the lime's shadow falling exactly across your feet. Mind the roots. Mind the gap. The guard's waving his flag, and this one's yours.