Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Woman profile with poppies and lilies design

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A black linework tattoo design on translucent tracing paper shows a woman in profile with her eyes closed, surrounded by poppies, lilies and other flowers. Her hair flows into spiralling curls and a fine lattice pattern sits beside her face and below the blooms. The drawing uses uniform outlines with fine interior detail and solid black accents, with no colour, set against a patterned fabric background.

Botanical Woman Profile Poppy Lily Flower Swirl Lattice

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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 frost has got into the top field again, and you are kneeling on the boards of the potting shed with your fingers gone white, trying to tell poppy seed from dust. Uncle Dafydd says the tin is older than the tractor. Inside, the seed heads have dried to little grey pepper pots, and when you shake one it rattles like a loose bolt in a bucket. He hasn't looked at you since breakfast, which is how you know he is still angry about the gate.

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Aunt Mair has left a sheet of tracing paper on the kitchen table, weighted at the corners with the salt, the pepper and two of your grandmother's thimbles. On it a woman turns her face away from the window with her eyes closed, and the hair streams off her in curls like the lane when it ices over. Poppies crowd her temple. Lilies stand up out of the lattice below her chin. Mair drew it from memory of her mother's garden in June, and says the lily bulbs on the windowsill in their newspaper won't flower until summer, so you mustn't dig them up to check.

You carry the drawing out to the gatepost when the wind drops, and pin it there with two nails. The tracing paper goes pale against the white field, and the lattice lets the grey light through, so the flowers seem to stand in the frost where nothing grows yet. You think of Mair at the table, drawing every bloom still in the garden while outside it was all mud and wire.

When you go back for the tin, you slip one dry poppy head into your coat pocket. On the walk to the house it knocks softly against your hip with every step, a small dry sound, the only thing on the farm that is keeping time.