Black fine line script reading You are my Sunshine with a small sun and rays, tattooed across the upper back near the shoulder blade.

You are my Sunshine script on the upper back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a woman's upper back showing the words You are my Sunshine in black cursive script, running diagonally across the skin near the shoulder. A small sun with radiating rays sits at the end of the phrase, drawn with thin, even linework. The ink is solid black against a soft, warmly lit background of skin and hair.

Lettering Fine line Back Quote Script Sun Sunshine Ray

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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

You have been hanging the sheets on the line since seven, because the wind off the Channel dries them stiff and clean, and Mrs Pardoe at number nine has complained twice about the damp. The boarding house smells of carbolic and kippers. Your hands are red from the cold water. Through the scullery window you can see the pier, and the last of the rain moving off towards Ramsgate.

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Dolly comes down the back steps in her borrowed cardigan, nine years old and already certain of everything. She has found the tin of gold paint left over from the chapel fete and wants to know whether it will stick to a shell. You tell her it will stick to anything if you're patient enough. She tells you that isn't how paint works, and you let her win the argument, because the sun has come out on the wet slates and it seems a poor day to be right.

Later, when the guests have gone down to the front with their deckchairs and the donkeys are plodding back up the sand, you sit on the step with her on your knee and draw in the margin of the rent book with a pencil stub. Little rays, a wobbling circle. She says the sun is too small. You say it is exactly the size of the one that matters, which is what your own mother used to say, and which you did not understand until now.

On Tuesday the telegram comes. You fold it into your apron pocket and go on peeling potatoes. When the light slides across the kitchen table you find yourself humming the old song, and you don't stop when Dolly looks up from her colouring. You hum it all the way to the end.