Coming down some spiral stairs,
I come upon two mated pairs.
Clasping hands that bridge divides,
I see two grooms, I spy two brides.
Countless times I meet these four,
While circling down that spiral core.
Perfect bliss, without debate,
Each always faithful to its mate.
So what is this, this perfect stair?
A life long tale, without compare.
What is this, I ask of thee?
Name it now with letters three.